Anathema
by Citrine Nebulae
Summary: A Death God is sent to the Human World with a Death Note that he is not allowed to lose, but who is this stupid freak of a girl that can see past his facade? AU. Warnings inside.
1. Penance

**A/N: And now for some boring talking from me that is rather necessary. This is a prologue-type chapter for the rest of the fic. The following chapters will be longer. This fic is already mostly finished, therefore I will be updating weekly. Please enjoy, and review. I went out of my comfort zone a little bit with the POV, and I'd love feedback. Especially since I am rather bad in general with chapter fics. **

**Beta Readers: RiXCHaN, EndingsAndBeginnings. Thank you, my lovelies. :)  
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**The timeline is AU, primarily involving OCs. There are some shinigami cameos.  
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**Warnings for the entire fic: Mild cursing, mild sexual themes. Violence/gore. Questionable ideology. Mentions of suicide. Death.  
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Anathema

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_He is the angel with the scabbed wings_

_Hard-drug face, want to powder his nose  
He will deflower the freshest crop  
Dry up all the wombs with his rock and roll sores_

_Dead_  
_Is what he is, he does what he please_  
_The things that he has you'll never want to see_  
_What you're never gonna be now_  
_Sketch a little keyhole for looking-glass people_  
_You don't want to see him_

_Marilyn Manson – Angel With The Scabbed Wings_

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Chapter One: Penance

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Guuku 's worn skull rattles in agitation but I just shuffle my cards amongst each other, taking no mind of him. He's always been a rotten gambler. An ugly one too. A maggot crawls out of my hair and settles on my eyeball. I blink it away with my cracked eyelid of exoskeleton and see the God of Death sitting next to Guuku shift. Deridovely. He is calmer, but I notice his unpleasant mouth grimace as he looks at his hand of cards. It's unfortunate that I should have to look at them – they are both vile beings. But I cannot gamble with the abominable Gods while turned away.

Beside me, a chuckle rumbles in Ryuk's throat. He is as refined as the heinous Gods of Death can get, but his perverse evergrin is still grotesque. He seems fairly confident (or at least uninterested) in his hand, and has them resting against his black clad leg while he lounges over his stone seat.

We all exchange glances (I shudder internally as Guuku's disgusting eye sockets sweep over me) and put our cards down on the slab of bone that serves as a table. Guuku howls and sweeps the cards away with a misshapen hand but we have already seen. Ryuk flips a gold trinket at me easily, but the other two pass over the spoils reluctantly. They owe me several years of their lives as well, but I don't much care. Years are a pitiful excuse for an existence. I only take the gold because it is somewhat of a respite from all of the mundane, colorless things in this world.

"Looks like you win again, Anathema," Ryuk laughs roughly. He stands up and rolls his shoulders and I get up as well. Guuku and Deridovely are moping at the table, muttering to themselves. I don't smile, even if they could see it past the chains that obstruct the lower half of my face. It has become second nature for me to beat the sleazy creatures of Death. I have gambled against every God of Death in the realm, and never once lost. It holds no meaning to me.

"Yes, I know," I say. The gold pieces shift in my hand, so I press them into my upper arm. The epidermis softens and becomes more malleable, so the pieces stick like my other winnings. Tattered wings part from my spine and unfurl. The maggots that reside on my body are careful to vacate the site – if they part from my body, they will disintegrate. I look back at the two Gods of Death at the table. They're giving me hateful looks. It is not an improvement from their usual abominable countenances.

I pump my wings and rise into the hoary gray air. I fly over the tapestry of bones and dirt and filth below. It doesn't make me sick, like its inhabitants. It just bores me almost-to-death. I despise this place. I pick the smallest craggy fissure and settle into it, retracting my wings. No rotten world to be seen from where I have put myself.

And simply because I'm bored, I close my eyes and go to sleep.

It does not matter how long I slept – only that a God of Death's rotten voice was pulling me out of my nothingness. I deeply regret that I cannot kill my own kind with my Death Note. Maggots swarm over my scalp and through my dreads irritably; they are something like a temperamental colony of bees, and my body is like a beehive. They grow from uneven sunders in the rock scale that covers me like armor, but they always fade and die before maturing. We share a hospitable lifestyle.

"Anathema," the God of Death presses. I give up feigning sleep and open my eyes.

"What is it?" I snap. I fly out of the fissure and hover above the surface. It's Ryuk. His grin is still present, and I feel a flash of disgust.

"The old man wants to talk to you," he says in an oily voice.

So without another look towards the foul immortal, I turn and fly towards the mountainous rock formation that the King of Death calls home. Ryuk follows, which does not thrill me. He is the God of Death I am most tolerant of, and I'd hate to not think of him as an ally because he felt the need to follow me around and annoy me.

We fly in through an opening in the rock and land on a ledge that opens into a cavernous room. A number of Gods are lazing around the throne of Armonia Justin Beyondormason. I make out Calikarcha, Midora, Guuku, Deridovely, Kinddara Guivelostain, and Zellogi. As we land, the lot of them quiet and look at me.

Above the ledge, chains constrict the mass that is the King of Death. His face is a skull, and four limp arms hang from him. Fluids ooze from the raw substances around the chains. It is apparent that the most powerful God of Death should also be the most repulsive.

"**Death God, Anathema."** I have never heard him before, but the voice could only come from the King of Death. It wasn't a single voice – it seemed to overlap itself in thousands of whispers and shouts and highs and lows until just the sound of my own name made me ache. The King of Death continued.

"**The most trusted of my Gods of Death have informed me that you have been stealing Death Notes****,"** the King of Death intones.

"What?" I say with genuine shock. Stealing Death Notes? Why? I would never willingly touch the property of another God of Death. It would be riddled with sickening characteristics of the Gods themselves. I am only able to collect my gambling winnings because they pass ownership to me when I win.

The King of Death does something odd – the chains rattle and there is a low rumbling from deep inside the cavern. My body gets heavier and maggots skitter around in panic, blinding me. I thump to the ground, landing hard. My vision clears.

"**Because of your atrocious crime, you are sentenced to receive a Level Four punishment."**

The Levels of Punishment go from 9-1 to Extreme. 9 is the most minor, and anything lower than 4 results in the death of the God. So I won't be dying.

I see the group of Gods staring at me smugly as an odd sensation comes over me. There's something wrong with my skin – the coins that are fused there are dropping and chiming as they hit the stone ledge. I look down and see that my hands have lost the gray tinge that all Gods of Death possess. They look like human hands. I touch them together hesitantly but they have maintained their rough scaly texture.

"**The penance for your crimes is now written in the back cover of your Death Note. The rules of the Death Note have also been transcribed into the front cover,"** the King of Death thunders. I have no idea what the blob of a King is talking about, but I cannot allow any of the other Gods of Death to see my confusion or uncertainty.

"**You are hereby banished for one year to the Human World, Death God, Anathema." **

_Banished?_

I understand. The Gods of Death that gathered. They told the King of Death that I was stealing their Death Notes. The pathetic runts lied to him. It is most likely because I've beaten them all at gambling. Something like that shouldn't be important, but I wouldn't put it past the loathsome entities.

I have only ever seen the Human World through the sundering in this realm. It looks far less prosaic than here. I don't know how I can appreciate being forcibly expelled though. And these conditions…a human form? Disgusting.

"Death God, Ryuk," the King of Death addresses him. Ryuk jumps and looks down at me from where he hovers. Of course, I am stupidly anchored to the ground as a human. Ryuk swoops down and seizes the back of my jacket with his gloved hand. I am lifted helplessly into the air but I detach myself from the situation. I'm immune to embarrassment – I could not feel inferior while in the presence of the lesser Gods of Death. I hold on to my Death Note tightly. A chorus of laughter comes from behind me as we fly out of the mountain.

I hear Ryuk snickering from above me but I disregard him. Everything in this world is rotten and foul. I have my hopes up in regards to the Human World. Maybe I will find something worth living for there. One year. Even if I find nothing of consequence, it is only an infinitesimal speck of time in relation to my lifespan.

Ryuk soars towards the gate to the Human World. It's a vortex of white light that seeps in, collapsing on itself at some point in the middle. We drop through, blinded by the flashes of white light until I feel like my consciousness is being picked apart at. We burst through the veil and into the Human World.

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**A/N: Thanks for making it this far! If you did like it, please leave a review. They make my day. If you didn't like it, please leave a review saying why. I have relatively thick skin, I should be able to take it. I want to get better. **

**I update weekly! Stick around, folks!**


	2. Conditions and Napping

**A/N: I know it hasn't been a week since I posted the first chapter, but for some reason I always seem to lose readers after the very first chapter. I'm not sure why - I hope that if someone is displeased with what is happening, they'd leave a review about it. Or perhaps it's just not their cup of tea. :) Either way, thanks if you decide to follow this story. I will be updating every Friday from now on.**_  
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_The boy's purified by the quitter gods  
Burning up his cross like a revelation  
And his glass jaw opens  
Like a puppet head_

_Marilyn Manson – Astonishing Panorama of the End Times_

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Chapter Two: Conditions and Napping

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I open my eyes slowly. The light that slants through the window looks the same as always – putrid yellow, like pustular butter. The God of Death's sky is dull, gray ash but at least it doesn't make my stomach roil.

My back is against the wall of a bare room. The concrete ground is ruined with holes and the drywall is rotten, the wooden beams exposed in several places. I suppose it is only correct that an exile should have to live among filth. I stand and straighten the clothes I slept in. They are the same jeans and jacket that I was wearing when I was turned into a meek human. I'm probably ripe after not changing for three months, but at least it deters some of the humans.

I reach down and pick up the ratty duffel bag that contains only three things: a pencil, a portfolio of paper, and my Death Note. I pull the black notebook out, flipping open to the front cover even though I have long since memorized the words.

How to Use: 

1. The human whose name is written in this note shall die.

2. This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

3. If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen.

4. If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack.

5. After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.

My expression doesn't change as I flip to the back cover.

Conditions of Penance: 

1. Death God, Anathema shall be outcast to the Human World for one year according to the human calendar.

2. Death God, Anathema shall keep his Death Note on his person at all times.

3. Death God, Anathema shall be granted a human form that is visible to humans. This effect shall cease if a human gains possession of his Death Note.

4. If a human gains possession of Death God, Anathema's Death Note, his human form shall disappear and the memories of those in contact with his human form shall be erased. Only the human who has touched his Death Note shall know of his existence in either form.

5. If a human gains possession of Death God, Anathema's Death Note, he shall be required to possess that human and remain with them as long as they maintain ownership of the Death Note or until they die.

6. When the human Death God, Anathema possesses dies or loses ownership of the Death Note, the year shall restart from that moment.

7. Should Death God, Anathema's human form be reapplied, all of the humans who had memories of his human form shall regain what they have lost, but they will not be conscious of his absence in the time in between.

8. Gods of Death are forbidden to be involved in Death God, Anathema's punishment unless the human they possess wills it.

9. Death God, Anathema is forbidden to use a Death Note that does not belong to him. Therefore, he may not kill the human he is possessing or any other human. His lifespan shall be frozen in place, and he will have no need to write names in any Death Note to add to it.

10. Death God, Anathema is bound by the same principle rules of the Death Note in regards to his obligations to the human he is possessing.

This ridiculous back cover that binds me to the Human World…to my punishment. I have to carry my Death Note with me at all times, and keep it out of the hands of a human. That means I can have no relationships or risk them touching the notebook. This fact does not bother me – in the first five minutes of my time in the Human World, I determined that humans are whiny, selfish little creatures with no regards for the person next to them. If I were to instigate or allow any contact with a human, my Death Note would end up in their oily little fingers before I could say _heart attack. _

I shove the Death Note back in the bag and walk out the door, scratching the back of my head. I'm constantly itchy in this form. My maggots don't appear on my human form, but I assume they're still there. I'm much shorter as well, which I don't appreciate. However, most humans aren't nine feet tall. My hair is much shorter, no longer elbow-length dreadlocks and minus the maggots. I still have my God eyesight and am stronger than the average human man.

My biggest problem is that my wings are gone. I'm not able to do anything but walk around at a human's gait. My little human shoulder blades feel naked and incomplete, like I should be able to unfurl them and shoot away from the obnoxious, talkative little creatures.

I push my way out of the sleazy building and merge in with the sea of commuters. They're carrying briefcases or backpacks and every single one of them has a cell phone fused to either their ears or their fingers. I wince at the tapping and beeping and roaring and talking. It's a pity I can't kill everyone within five square miles.

I arrive at the school building with a pounding headache. I hate the King of Death for giving me the form of a teenager. I am an immortal God of Death, sitting in a plastic laminate desk with the youthful plebeians of the Human World. If I were an adult, I could simply sleep the days away. I would not need to work because I do not need food. But I am a teenager with no way of avoiding truancy officers. And I cannot claim I'm homeschooled without fake parents to prove it. I've also been living in a half-rotted attic over a dirty Laundromat. The only thing I could do was claim to be an emancipated minor and enroll myself in high school.

He did this injustice on purpose.

I'd like very much to kill the whiny freak humans.

I close my eyes and try to tune everything out. I am interrupted by a sharp jab to the forearm. My eyelids twitch in annoyance but I don't open them. _Her. Maybe she'll give up today if I don't respond._

The poke comes again. And again. Unable to stand it, I grab her wrist in a vice, being careful not to break it like a toothpick. Humans are so hatefully frail. I keep the sleeve of my jacket between our skin so she doesn't notice the bizarre feel of my exoskeleton against hers. When I've firmly established I'm a ways from hurting her seriously, I apply some pressure to the bone. She yelps and I hear an apology through my haze of chagrin.

"I'm sorry," she says and yanks her wrist back futilely. I look at her struggling for a moment then release it. She rubs the bone and looks up at me.

This dimwitted little child has done nothing but bother me ever since I arrived. Every morning she'd whisper my name (Anat) at me from her desk, but this was the first time she'd ever attempted to touch me. I think she goes beyond normal stupidity into certified insanity. Her lifespan is diverting, however. She has less than a year. Perhaps I will see her die.

Her long platinum hair is always tangled, and the unhealthy sheen from it makes her complexion look sickly and washed out. Her eyes are big and bulging, the color of curdled mold, and they dart around with paranoia as she attempts to stare past what is in front of her. This trait has always unsettled me. I feel like she's able to see my Death God form even when I cannot.

"Leave me alone," I snap in my human voice. It's not as smooth as my Death God form, but it's still eerily inhuman to someone like her. My best strategy to defend against this is to not talk. And when I must, I intentionally harshen it. Less like quicksilver, and more like white noise.

She looks like she's about to say something, but then the sweaty middle-aged teacher walks in and starts talking about something and she's forced to turn around.

I was not in the mood to even pretend like I was listening today, so when the bell rang, I had nothing to pack up. I swung my light bag over my shoulder and left the classroom without looking back at the girl. Halfway down the hallway, I see her weave around another student and follow me. I clench my teeth. Stupid, stupid, stupid little creature. Go away. I cannot threaten her with death, as I can't use my Death Note. But, oh, how I want to.

She doesn't even share my next class with me. So she's intentionally stalking me. I am too repulsed by the idea of ducking into the men's bathroom to hide, so I just head to my class. She peels off of me the second I turn the corner into the room, and I sit down, quietly relieved.

At the end of the next class, I spot her in the hallway again. She's too far away to get to me so I hurry to my next class without looking back. While lounging in my seat in this class, I worry about lunch period. I've seen her sit across the cafeteria and stare at me before, but with her unusual headstrong advances of today, I doubt she'll pass up an opportunity like that. What does she want? I am a God of Death, and I'm running away from a scrawny sophomore. I touch my leg to my duffel bag protectively, checking that it's still under my desk.

I look up at the rest of the classroom, and realize everyone is staring at me. My eyes dart over to where I last saw the teacher. He's not there. I sigh and lean my head back. Perfect.

"Mr. Anat," he thunders. I don't respond, but locate his voice. He's too close for comfort, right behind me and to the left. I'd have to turn around in my seat and crane my neck to look at him. And I'm not going to indulge him like that. I stay still adamantly until he finally gives up and walks around to face me. This fart is making my punishment more difficult than it should be. I'm infinitely older and far more intelligent than him (practically omnipresent) – he should be offering me gifts on bended knee. Not that I'd take them from his filthy hands. Not that I'd even be somewhat stirred by mundane human items.

I stare straight ahead, still quiet.

Only nine more months.

I trash my detention slip on the way out of the classroom after the bell rings. I can't resist giving the guy a little smirk as I do so. Something about this world has definitely changed me. I have to get out of here. Human soap is no cleaner than human germs, so I just wipe my hands on my jacket.

I glance around furtively as I enter the cafeteria. I usually sit off to the side, by the wall. It's the farthest away from everything, and there's not a lot of traffic in that area. And she normally sits a few tables away, at the fringe of the crowded center. I take my seat and look for her where she should be sitting. But she's not there. She's sitting down across the table from me.

I stare her down as she looks at me. She doesn't have a tray of food in front of her, so I don't have to watch her eat.

I don't think I would be able to stand that.

She leans forward, looking at me with her bizarre human eyes.

"You don't know my name, do you?" she asks. I don't answer. "Well, it's Quinn."

I already know her name. And her lifespan. I suppose it is reasonable collateral for being in the human world. Perhaps I shall see her die.

She chatters about asinine things for the remainder of the lunch period, but all I can do is stare into her unappealing face (well, that and scratch my skin. Her whiny voice is driving my maggots insane) and wonder if she can truly see past the King of Death's disguise. If she can, she's either brave or dumb. What is going on with this simpleton?

I refuse to stay in this world longer than necessary. She'd better stay away from me. I can't risk her getting a hold of my Death Note. Perhaps I should think of a way to scare her off…

I pick up my bag and shoulder it, walking out the doors. I feel her staring after me, but it doesn't matter whether she follows me or not right now. We share the same next class. She catches up to me as the bell rings. The hallway fills with students, who give us odd looks. We're both infamous for being loners with mental problems – two of the most antisocial in the school are suddenly walking together. And now I feel exposed. And offended. We're not even of the same species. I pin my bag to my side and my lips skin back from my teeth in an unpleasant grimace.

When we enter the giant white art room, I sit down at my usual back table and she sits across from me. I clench my fists and imagine her clutching her heart, writhing with pain on the floor in death throes. The only truly beautiful sight in _either_ world. A teacher enters the room and tells us to take out our art portfolios. I jump out of my cracked skin when I see Quinn leaning forward towards my bag. Her portfolio is already on the table. I jerk my bag away from her and slap my portfolio on the table to appease her.

"Burn in hell," I hiss at her. She doesn't respond to that, but her eyebrows cinch together slightly. All the same. I content myself with looking up at her lifespan. She slides my portfolio towards herself after a glance at my bag and flips through the drawings. She pushes her own portfolio toward me, but there's no way I'm touching that filth.

"These are really interesting," she says. "They're sort of frightening at the same time though. Like if you look at them too long, they'll hurt you."

_They will, _I want to growl, but I don't. It'd only lead to a spout of questions.

"What is this one?" she says, turning the portfolio so I can see. She's stopped on the pencil sketch of a God of Death. It is not one in particular, though I think it bears some resemblance to myself. It's tall, with gray rock-scale skin. It is wearing epaulets that are made of wretched skull faces frozen with anguish and fused together at the temples. The head is angular with chain links wrapped around the lower half of the face, hiding its mouth.

Drawing is a human activity, but it holds some form of undeniable pleasure for me. I can draw whatever I want and look at it instead of something ugly in the Human World. When I'm not napping, I'm drawing.

I have no answer for her, but before I can speak, I hear my name.

"Anat."

It's the art teacher. She's a young woman who always wears the torturous human contraption called high heels. I don't know how she can preach about letting yourself free through art when she herself is captive in such devices.

I get up and walk to her desk, looking back at Quinn as I do so. Her eyes are still on my portfolio. The teacher is sitting there with my oil painting on her desk. Her mouth is twisted and her hands rest on her desk just short of the painting. It's a simple dark scene that I came up with, featuring gnarled trees lining a black stairway. At the top of the stairs, a sphere leaks out violet liquid that spills down the stairs and is absorbed into the roots of the trees, streaking the bark with purple veins. It's beautiful. But I guess she doesn't think so.

She keeps her hands a safe distance away from the painting while she whispers something about what I should have done for the assignment instead of create "gothic landscapes." I endure her tirade, which goes on for about two minutes, then turn around and head back to the table. Quinn is gone. My eyes immediately go to where I left my bag. It's gone. Panic shoots through me. I turn back to the teacher in a hurry.

"Where'd -," I start, but then I see her. Quinn has my bag over my shoulder and is pushing the door to the hallway open. I immediately start towards her, ignoring the irking calls of the teacher. When I'm in the hallway, I look left and right. She's hurrying away from me, and I run after her. She's heading for the cafeteria – the doors there are the only ones in the schools without alarms in the middle of classes. And past it, the courtyard is without cameras. She thought her escape route out.

I can't let her touch the Death Note. I cannot spend longer than a year in this place. I'd rather die. In front of me, she hits the doors and pushes her way out into the burning day. The unfiltered sunlight scalds my eyes as I run out after her.

We're in the courtyard, by the maintenance unit. And she's reaching into the bag, touching the only thing there is to touch within it.

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**A/N: Still with me? Wee! Thank you! **

**Please leave a review with suggestions, critique, or comments. :)**** They make my day, and I welcome constructive critiques! **


	3. Scrabble and Monsters

**A/N: Hehrow people. _  
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**I apologize in advance if anything in this chapter seems unrealistic. I did a bit of research (a bit, hehe) and everything is apparently accurate. So if you don't like it...well, it's purely your own problem. Lol. :) Either way, love you guys, mwah~!**

**Oh. By the way. I know I said I post on Fridays, but I am going to be busy packing and leaving the house tomorrow morning, so I figure better safe than sorry. Might not be able to find time to be perfectly punctual. But it's okay, because the chapter is early and that's always good. :D  
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_She's got her eyes open wide_  
_She's got the dirt and spit of the world_  
_Her mouth on the metal_  
_The lips of a scared little girl_

_I've got an angel in the lobby_  
_He's waiting to put me in line_  
_I won't ask forgiveness_  
_My faith has gone dry_

_Marilyn Manson – Count to 6 & Die_

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Chapter Three: Scrabble and Monsters

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Her hand disappears into the pocket and I feel hatred and shock and anguish and panic rise up within me all at once. The little interloper! She's ruined everything! I dive at her in a last attempt to save myself. Maybe she hasn't touched it yet…her eyes widen and she's tackled to the ground. She's looking up at me, and I can feel my human form slough off of me to be replaced by the lighter feeling of my God form. She opens her mouth to scream but nothing comes out.

I've lost. I'm stranded here.

She's making these strangled little noises and I realize that my weight was on her middle. I am forbidden to kill her, so I step off of her. I don't know what to feel. I am well acquainted with anger and disgust but now it's directed at myself. How could I have been so painfully dull? To leave my bag beside her?

She's coughing and trying to scoot away from me, gasping hysterically.

"I knew it!" she rasps. "You are a monster! You're just like the other ones! Why are you here?"

All of my anger drains and is replaced with a dejected feeling. I can't believe this is happening…

"What do you mean?" I say, listening carefully to my voice. Yes. I am definitely back in my God form.

"Ever since you came here I've been seeing a monster inside of you! I was worried you were possessed by something evil! But you're not! You _are_ evil!" she shrieks. My ears ring as her annoying voice penetrates them like ice picks. So she did see my God form…

"Why have you stolen my bag, you petty little louse?" I demand. She flinches and backs away from me.

"I was looking for proof," she whimpers. "And I found it. You're a monster."

"I'm not a monster," I growl. "I'm a God of Death. And you're a pathetic little child for involving yourself in my affairs. I should kill you."

She glances at the fallen notebook. Perhaps she didn't hear me. I just said I was going to kill her. Not that I really could. I would. But she doesn't know that. She's crazy.

"What is that?" she whispers.

"Twit. Do you have a death wish? I can smell the stupid coming off you."

She opens it and looks at the front cover.

"How was a lowly dunce able to tell what I was?" I mutter to myself.

"I see monsters," she says in response. "In the corner of my eyes. But when I look at them straight, they're gone. But when I looked at you, I could see the outline of a monster around you." So she sees other monsters as well as me…she's obviously insane. "Does this notebook really kill people?"

I sneer in answer and she looks awed.

"Read the back cover," I say, and lean against the wall of the school, crossing my arms. "If you can even do that much with your little human mind." I can now do nothing but live with my mistake. When she finishes, she looks up at me again.

"So now I'm the only one who can see you? And everyone in there has forgotten you even exist?" She doesn't wait for an answer though, and flips back to the front of the notebook. "I can kill people with this…but who would I kill?" She stares into middle distance for a moment before shrugging. "I'll think about it. But what should I do now, Anat?"

"It's Anathema," I correct with a growl. "And whatever you damn well please. I've got to follow you around for as long as you have that notebook."

"Follow me around…" she muses. "Does that mean we're friends?"

I reel back, horrified at even the thought of being associated with a human like that.

"No. It does not."

"I see," she says, with a faint smile that makes me want to rip her lips off. "Well, I'm glad we're friends now. I haven't had a friend in years."

Stupid human. I loathe this world.

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Since I am now invisible to the rest of the mites, I follow Quinn while she attends the rest of her classes. I observe the children from my place on the ceiling, glad that I am no longer a part of this prison. Being in my own skin is the only consolation for failing at my punishment. My maggots squeal and run in and out of my hair with delight, and I'm glad to be able to hide my expressions with my chain mask. Above all, I am pleased to have my wings back. When I unfurled them for the first time, they were so cramped and sore that it almost hurt to move them.

Quinn looks up at me jealously periodically during her lessons, and I'm in such a good mood that I forget I hate her for taking my Death Note. I can't help it – I pull my chain mask down and give her a grin. Take that, silly human. Stuck on the ground while I'm free to do whatever the hell I want.

She gives me a dirty look but shudders a little at my smile. I'm sure I look frightful to her – but she's the one who is descended from monkeys.

Floating meditatively with my back against the ceiling, I seriously consider whether or not this is better than being confined to my human form. I'm still carrying out my punishment, and even though it is actually frozen in place, I'm free in my own form. The only thing I have to cope with is being bound to Quinn, the primate-child. Could this really be a punishment? I can draw and fly. I don't have to gamble with stupid Gods of Death, who can always catch up to me and bother me even if I fly away to be alone.

By the end of the day, the elation of being back in my own body has dampened. I still had to sit through eight hours of school today.

"Do you need any of this crap?" Quinn asks, digging through the duffel bag she had stolen earlier that day. I am hovering around her as she walks home from school.

"You own the Death Note now," I say. "But give me my portfolio back. I guess there is no way to get your germs off of it."

"Oh yeah!" She snaps her fingers like I didn't just insult her again. "I meant to look at that. Mind?" She opens it, flipping back to the God of Death sketch. "It's you."

"No it is not," I say. "It is just a God of Death." Idiot.

"Oh, please," she scoffs. "It's totally you. Look. It's got those weird chains around its mouth, and those shoulderpad things."

I twist my head various directions to try and see what the ridiculous child means.

"I don't see it," I say. "You're crazy."

"Its head is shaped like the head of a hammer."

I squint at it.

She giggles like a maniac.

"You draw pictures of yourself."

"I do not."

"Do so."

"Do not make me kill you."

I've changed my mind. Any place is better than trapped beside this runt, in this noxious world. I'd rather watch Deridovely's disgusting mouth complain for all eternity. I'd give up my wings again to get away from her.

"Well, you can't," she snickers. "Because I've got this." She waves the Death Note in my face. I resist the urge to grab it and hit her with it. Instead I just soar away and phase through the roof of the house she pointed out as hers.

"I'm so tired," she complains, flopping on her bed. I hover a few feet above the ground, pulling my legs up so I'm sitting in midair with them crossed. I'm reluctant to touch anything in this residence. It reeks of human. The bedroom of a fifteen year old female human is horrifying. It's nearly as foul as the Gods' of Death realm. While that realm has bone and rock formations littered throughout the expanse, Quinn's room has clothing and books and broken pencils and fragments of potato chips scattered all over the floor. I wonder if there is something growing or mutating underneath the bed – that seems to be the centerpiece of the mess.

Quinn is silent for a few minutes, lying on her stomach with my portfolio in front of her. She's browsing through it, occasionally stopping and peering more closely at a picture.

"Do you see everything in such a dark light?" she asks. She points at a picture of an ugly God of Death. "Who's that?"

"It's you."

She snorts and laughs. But she doesn't stop laughing like a normal person would. She snorts some more, laughs even louder, and rolls over on her back. And keeps laughing like a freak. I wasn't serious about the drawing being her, but I did mean to imply that she was just as ugly as it. And apparently she thinks it was a joke. I'd love to kill her…but I wait it out.

Eventually she lapses into periodic spouts of giggling, but she manages to speak.

"Wanna play Scrabble?" she hiccups. I move past my unwillingness to look at the crazy homunculus and stare at her. "Well, do you?"

"What is Scrabble?"

She gasps, rolling off her back onto all fours. She looks at me in very theatrical shock that I already hate.

"Only the best game in the world."

"Which world?"

She ignores me and slides off her bed and lies on her stomach to dig underneath it. She pulls out a rectangular box and throws it at me. She must be kidding. I phase out and allow the box to slam into the wall behind me. Her jaw drops and I look back at the ruins, somewhat bemused.

"Jerk. I don't like you," she growls.

"Well, I hate you. If you don't know that by now, than you're stupider than I thought you were."

She walks over and starts setting up the pieces. I watch her, feeling sick. What is this torture she has in store for me?

"Okay," she says when she finishes. "This is how you play. First, we have to decide who goes first by drawing a letter." She shoves her hand into a bag and pulls out a wooden tile. Then she looks at me. I grumble, but I'm intrigued. I float over and pick a tile. She looks at it. "Okay, you got B and that's closer to A than F, so you go first. Take this." I take the little wooden thing. "Now draw seven tiles." I do. "And set them up on your rack."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Just do it."

I do it. Reluctantly.

"If this turns out to be stupid, then I'm going to kill you."

"You can't," she counters.

We dissolve into a game of Scrabble. Admittedly, it's not as bad as I thought it'd be. But I still have to look miserable so she doesn't see. And I'm better than her. She leans forward and stares at the board, as if realizing something for the first time.

"Why are all of the words you make things like: Ugly, revolting, nauseating, and horrid?"

I look closely and notice that she is correct.

"Well, those are the only words that come to mind when I'm sitting across from you."

This time when her eyes widen it's not because she's interpreting what I said incorrectly. Or bending it her own way. She's offended, at the very least. She leans forward, drawing a fist back. I don't bother phasing through her punch, instead letting it slam into my eye. Maggots fly out of my hair, hitting the floor and disintegrating. Some of them land on her fist and face and she shrieks, clawing at them, but they've already vanished.

"What is that?" she cries.

"That," I say, "is normal. It's something you're going to have to deal with unless you give up the Death Note. So, how about it? Give it back." She holds her fist and rubs it feverishly, undoubtedly trying to get the feeling off of the skin. I feel the same way about her. All the time.

"I could give it back?" she inquires once she's finished wigging out.

"Yes. But you'd lose all memory of it and me."

"I see. No thanks. I want to keep it."

My eye twitches. Fine.

"Then I suppose I'm obligated to tell you about it. Listen, because I refuse to tell you more than once." She sits up, showing that she is listening. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"You write someone's name while thinking of their face, they die. You can write specific details of their death. You can't kill anyone with it whose name isn't written. So no murdering people and then having the murderer commit suicide," I rattle off.

"What if I don't know their name or face?" she asks.

"Then tough luck. But there is a way to find out their name if you know their face, or have a picture."

"How?"

"You can trade for the eyes of a Death God. It enables you to see the name and lifespan of anyone as long as you can see their face."

She gasps. "Cool! What do I have to do to get them! Does it hurt?"

"No, it doesn't hurt. Regrettably. But you can trade half of your remaining life for them."

"_Half?"_ she shrieks.

"Yes_, half,"_ I sneer. "I personally advise that you do so."

"You just want me dead," she smirks.

"What gave you that impression?" Humans are so stupid.

She glares at me, but a moment later she's looking back at the board again, the incident forgotten.

"Quinn?" The voice comes from outside the door. Quinn jumps to her feet.

"Yes?" she says, grabbing the portfolio and stashing it under her bed.

"We have to go. Your appointment is at five."

"Appointment?" I ask. "What appointment?"

"Yeah, okay," she calls. "Give me three seconds."

"One," I drone.

"Shut up."

"Two."

"I said shut up."

"Three."

She grabs the Death Note and a jacket and walks out the door.

* * *

"A shrink?" I say in disbelief, even though I'm not really shocked at all. Insane people have shrinks. It is a fact of the Human World.

Quinn filled me in on the car ride. She is a severely schizophrenic. So much that it interferes with her daily life. So, I was right.

"Yeah," Quinn says, stretching her arms above her head. She walks into the office, not bothering to shake the hand of the man who was supposed to be analyzing her sanity. She settles down on a sofa and pulls her feet up, tucking the notebook under her leg. The man, Dr. Harvey, settles himself in a seat as well. My eyes flick up to his lifespan automatically.

_Well, t hat's interesting._

"Be careful," I warn her, less because I'm obligated to, and more because I don't want the doctor to see me. "If he touches the Death Note, he can see me."

"Got it," she says, with no regard for the doctor sitting right across from her.

"He can also hear you talking to me."

"I know. What do you think I am, stupid?"

Yes.

Dr. Harvey gives her a gentle look, leaning forward.

"Are you alright Ms. Collins? Are you ready to begin?" She nods and he begins talking about a whole bunch of things that are a nice way of saying, 'I think you're nuts.' I know, because I've been thinking the rude version for the past three months.

"So about these hallucinations you've been having…" he muses, tapping a pen against his chin.

"They're not hallucinations," she interrupts. "They're monsters. " And then, to me, she says, "Can you believe this guy?" The shrink looks in my direction then back at Quinn.

"Well…seeing things is normal for people with your condition," he continues. "Your schizophrenia is mostly characterized by hallucinations. Now, have any of your symptoms changed? Are you hearing voices?"

"No."

"Any symptoms of depression?"

"No."

"Headache, nausea?"

"Why, yes. It's sitting here talking to me."

"Hey, me too!" I say with pseudo-enthusiasm. She cracks up. I didn't mean to make her laugh. I was being serious. The shrink is looking from her to where I am with his watery old-man eyes.

"Now, look," he says with the air of someone who knows they're losing their grip on their authority.

"Now, look," she mimics him. I scratch my head.

"Ms. Collins," he starts again, quietly. "There's no one there. Okay?"

Quinn rolls her eyes and grabs a pen from the coffee table in front of her. I watch, interested in what the little monkey-child is going to do. She pulls the Death Note out from under her leg.

"What's that?" the shrink asks, looking thrilled. "Have you been keeping a journal, like I suggested?"

"The monsters are there, Dr. Harvey. They're there, even if you can't see them. I'm sorry you don't believe me."

She uncaps the pen and scrawls something. I start to chuckle, but then realize I'll sound too much like Ryuk if I do. Quinn leans back against the couch, yawning.

"Come on," she says to me. "I don't really want to watch this very much."

"I do," I protest halfheartedly, but follow her out of the door. Behind me, I hear the rasping and gagging of the doctor as he dies.

Quinn skips into the lobby, which is empty except for her mother.

"Done!" she sings.

"That was fast," her mother says, somewhat skeptically. "Did he want to say anything to me?"

"Nope," she says. "He's a bit preoccupied at the moment."

"Oh?" her mother says. "What'd you talk about?"

"Nothing much. I just killed him, that's all," she says earnestly. Her mother stops in her tracks.

"What'd you say?" she says.

"Oh. I killed him. He told me the monsters aren't real…but he wouldn't believe me. So a God of Death gave me the power to punish people I don't like. You can go check if you'd like." And with that, she tucks the Death Note into her jacket and sits down in a chair. Her mother looks horrified, and runs down the hallway, toward the office we just vacated.

I can hear her screams from here.

* * *

**A/N: See what I mean with the inaccuracy? I was skeptical about the nature of hallucinations in people with schizophrenia, but I found out that_ some_ people really do see things like Quinn claims to see. So yeah. If I haven't lost you at this point, then hooray. Feel free to review. :)**


	4. Yellow Ward and Red Pyre

_Maybe I'm the one, maybe I'm the one_

_Who is the schizophrenic psycho, yeah_

_Maybe I'm the one, maybe I'm the one_

_Who is the paranoid psycho_

_I'm the one, I'm the one_

_Who is the schizophrenic psycho_

_I'm the one, I'm the one_

_Who is the schizophrenic psycho_

_I'm the one, I'm the one_

_Who is the schizophrenic psycho_

_Puddle of Mudd - Psycho_

* * *

Chapter Four: Yellow Ward and Red Pyre

* * *

I think this is the only place I could ever be somewhat content in. It doesn't make sense, seeing as how I'm now among the lowest of the low – the scourge of the Human World's inhabitants. It is true that there is the occasional deranged scream from a patient who is farther gone than even my pathetic human, but other than that, it is silent and white and plain and there's nothing around to fray at my nerves.

Quinn seems to think the opposite. She's only been here for a few minutes, and the only thing she's done is bury her face in her hands and twitch occasionally. A nurse came by and dropped off a game of Scrabble, and I tried to coax Quinn into playing it with me, even though it would mean her speaking to me in her annoying voice with her unpleasant monkey-face. It doesn't seem like she's adjusting well to the Psych Ward.

We're only in the Yellow Ward, which means that she's not under any kind of suicide watch. She's got a few privileges, but like I said, she hasn't moved from that chair. The staff just got done with her evaluation and tests and such. Her weight, height. Boring human things. She was offered pills. Quinn tried to refuse them, but the nurses waited until she was sure that Quinn had swallowed them before leaving. They also didn't search her at all. The Death Note was still safe in her jacket.

It's her own fault. She could've lied about what she did to her shrink. But no. She had to tell her mom, and land us as involuntary patients in the loony bin.

Oh well. I like it here. It's so quiet and clinical.

Quinn stirs beside me and I look at her. She quieted a short time after her pills were administered, and this is the first time she's moved since then.

"I hope you know that you're just as trapped as I am," she says. "I'm not going to give up ownership of the Death Note. And I'm not likely to die in here."

"On the contrary," I say. "You've only been in here for less than a day and you're already catatonic. Three days and the little bubble of sanity you still possess will pop. And I bet if I listen closely enough, I will be able to hear it."

She ignores this and changes the subject.

"I need you to hold onto the Death Note. One of those nurses is going to come back and confiscate my stuff any minute now."

"Why would I do that?" I ask. "And anyways, if I hold the Death Note, it'll just appear to float in midair."

"Fine," she says. "Then find me a hiding place."

I grumble but do as she says. I find a place easily – I phase through the wall and hide it in the wallboard insulation.

"Happy?"

She nods, and not a second later, a nurse walks in, carrying an armful of items. Her name is Cathy Dawe. And her lifespan is _deliciously_ intriguing.

"How are we doing?" she says with sickening cheer, though she's carefully watching Quinn's face. Quinn doesn't answer, which probably doesn't help her at all. "I'm Cathy Dawe." The nurse bustles around a bit and then stands in front of Quinn to get her attention. "Could you take your jacket off for me, honey? I just need to go through the pockets." She doesn't really wait for Quinn to respond – just grabs the jacket and starts to gently but forcibly detach the jacket from Quinn. I am thrilled that Quinn's rights are being imposed upon. That's what she gets for bothering me and putting me in this mess.

"Oh," Cathy Dawe says. "We can't have that. Sorry, but I'll need to take this from you."

It's a pen. Quinn could poke her eyes out with it. I can't help it – I snicker. Quinn glares at me.

The nurse continues to pull out the pockets of the jacket and confiscate things.

"Why do you carry dental floss?" I sneer. "And why do they have to take it away from you? It's just dental floss."

"Because some people cut themselves with it," Quinn mutters. The nurse's eyes shoot up to her face but she probably isn't sure of what she heard.

"Okay. Can you put these on for me?" Cathy Dawe says. She hands Quinn a bundle of white clothing.

"Aren't you going to cavity search me?" Quinn growls. The nurse laughs like it's a joke.

"No. We only do that for Red Ward patients."

"Could you turn around then?"

"Sorry, hun, I can't."

This is the best moment of my eternal life. There's no way I'm going to ruin it for myself by getting an eyeful of scrawny naked human. I turn away.

When Quinn finishes, she's burning red, tinting the light white fabric pink.

I could live my entire wretched life in this moment.

"Now," the nurse says with a smile, gathering up the confiscated items and Quinn's old clothes. "We're just going to go through these and they may be returned to you. There are certain conditions for wearing your own clothing here, but for now, you've got to wear that."

"Can I have something to tie my hair back?" Quinn asks sweetly.

"No, sorry. But how about a nice tour of our facilities? You are actually in a sort of teen and young adult ward, so you probably won't see anyone who isn't your age."

"Of course," I cackle. "The rotten _miniature_ insane scum. How organized."

"Okay," Quinn agrees.

Cathy Dawe shows her out of the room and hands her off to another nurse who introduces herself as Anna. Anna smiles at Quinn maternally, even though she only looks about seven or eight years older. My eyes widen. I'm confused. All of the lifespans in this building are so odd. Although, it's said that a human who finds a Death Note is pursued by nothing but misfortune. This must be a very prime example. Maybe my stay here will be entertaining.

"This is the lobby," Anna says. "Visiting hours are permitted for Yellow and Green Wards, from 7 to 8:30am and 5 to 7:30pm every day. There's a library on the floor above this one, and it's available every day. It's shared between all of the Wards." She leads Quinn down a few hallways.

"These are the Green Ward rooms. The Yellow Ward rooms are on the adjacent hallway. And the Red Ward is farther down. The doors have windows in them, but you'll probably be supervised if you're in one any other time than in the evenings. There are two beds per room, so you'll have a roommate. Don't worry, I promise she won't bite."

"You already know who my roommate is?" Quinn asks.

"Well…" the nurse frowns. "I take that back, simply because, yes, I do know her. Let me amend myself…I promise I'll try to keep her from biting."

I smirk at the shocked look on Quinn's face. This place just keeps getting better and better.

"She's actually out in the recreation lobby right now, if you want to meet her."

"I don't know, do I?" Quinn mutters. Anna doesn't hear her, and cheerfully escorts her back through the hallway.

We turn the corner into a wide open room. A few patients around Quinn's age are milling around like lost bums.

"Anna!" a voice calls. Something slams into Anna at several miles an hour and embraces her.

"Rebecca!" Anna coughs. She tries to detach what is now identifiable as a human girl from around her neck and waist. "Get off!"

"I'm a koala and you're my eucalyptus tree!" Rebecca sings. She grips Anna tighter and starts to eat her hair. An orderly starts advancing on them but Anna manages to wave him away. "Rebecca, get off, or they're going to put you out."

Rebecca unwraps her legs from Anna's waist and drops back onto the floor. She's slightly taller than Anna and much taller than Quinn, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. She's got a red bandanna tied around her forehead. Her dark brown hair is buzzed extremely short.

"I've missed you so much!" Rebecca says. Anna tries to look stern but a small smile cracks through.

"Didn't I tell you not to wear this anymore? I have to confiscate it, you know," Anna says, grabbing the bandanna off of Rebecca's head and putting it in the back pocket of her scrubs. Rebecca pouts, sticking out her lower lip. I guess Quinn isn't the only one who can be unattractive enough to resemble long-gone evolutionary ancestors.

"This is Quinn Collins," Anna says, gesturing. "She's your roommate."

"I see," Rebecca purrs, looking at Quinn appraisingly. "Not bad. I'm Pyre." She sticks out a hand.

Quinn looks confused but takes it. Immediately, Rebecca-Pyre pulls her in close, sniffing Quinn's hair. She closes her eyes, and then moves her mouth by Quinn's ear.

"I'm a pyromaniac. And a kleptomaniac. And a nymphomaniac. And have type two bipolar disorder. My, you are ravishing, my darling," she whispers huskily. I howl with laughter as Quinn tries to pull away from her, looking panicked.

Anna helps Quinn disengage herself from Rebecca-Pyre. Once Quinn is free, Rebecca-Pyre smiles creepily and says, "So, what's your malfunction?"

"My what?" Quinn asks with a frown.

"How crazy are you?"

"Er…" Quinn says, but Anna speaks over her.

"That's enough, Rebecca. "

Rebecca-Pyre giggles, not put out in the slightest.

"We're going to be best friends," she smiles.

Quinn gulps and says, "Look, Rebe-,"

"IF YOU CALL ME REBECCA I'M GOING TO RIP YOUR RIGHT ARM OFF AND GIVE YOU A WET WILLIE WITH THE SOGGY END!" Rebecca-Pyre thunders.

Ah, humans have to resort to such cheap threats. I know Pyre is not strong enough to rip off one of Quinn's limbs. Their frailness goes both ways.

Pyre claps a hand over her mouth, but her mud-brown eyes are still sparkling with annoying mischief.

"Sorry!" she trills. "That's the bipolar disorder speaking. Type two means that I'm like…hyper ALL the time. But I also get really mad easily..hm…just call me Pyre."

I was reluctantly impressed with her ability to make Quinn's life difficult two minutes ago, but now it looks like she's even worse than Quinn. Far crazier, far louder. Why does everything always go downhill for me? This world..no, _both worlds_, are corrupt. Is there nothing in either of them that is not unpropitious? Except drawing.

Drawing is good.

Anna is shaking her head.

"Why don't you finish up her tour, Rebecca? Can I trust you to do that?"

Pyre snaps into a salute.

"Yes! I can do that! Let's go!" She grabs Quinn's arm and starts towing her in a random direction. The other patients are looking up from whatever banal tasks they were doing and staring at the pair.

"Hang on!" Anna says, dragging her back. "You two have to be in the cafeteria in ten minutes. I'm cutting you some slack, and I shouldn't be, since you're in the Yellow Ward. Don't make me regret it."

"Got it!" Pyre nods. Anna hesitates for a moment but then walks past Quinn and Pyre into the recreation lobby. Pyre eyes her, and covertly snatches the red bandanna out of Anna's pocket. She stuffs it down the front of her shirt and then seizes Quinn's forearm again, pulling her.

"Dig your heels in," I suggest as Quinn is yanked forward. Quinn proves to be unsatisfactory at this, and Pyre easily hauls her through several hallways and past a staircase I assume leads to the library, until there's no sign of anyone. Pyre releases her and then digs in her own shirt overzealously, and I automatically switch my eyes to Quinn.

"I'd hate to be you. And for more reasons than are apparent," I leer.

"Oh, shut up," Quinn whispers.

"What's wrong? You don't want anyone to know that you talk to the monsters only you see? Are you perhaps trying to appear sane so that you can get out of here? Good luck with that," I scoff.

"I knew it!" Pyre says, whirling on Quinn, leaning in extremely close, so that their noses are almost touching. She's retied the bandanna around her forehead. "You're schizophrenic!"

"Huh?" Quinn gasps. "No, I -!"

"I was right," I say smugly. "You _are_ trying to convince people you're not crazy."

Quinn splutters for a few moments while Pyre smirks. Then Pyre leans down and does something so bizarre I immediately avert my eyes.

"What is she doing?" I stammer, severely thrown. _Oh…I don't know if I can deal with this…_

"Whew, that's better," I hear Pyre say, sounding satisfied. "Good thing they don't do cavity searches in this ward." When I look back, I see her sticking several matches into her bandanna. She pushes them down so they're not visible.

"B-b-but you'll get in huge trouble for that," Quinn says, looking frightened, while pointing at the bandanna. Pyre scoffs.

"Those nurses love me. They'll put on a show for the sake of their jobs, but they know that I love the padded room. If you are spastic enough, they put you in a straitjacket as well. You can roll around in there for hours. You're trapped, but it also sets you free. You can drool and jibber and run into the walls as much as you want and you won't be judged for it because you're already nuts."

"See?" I smirk. "She's confident with her mental standing."

She starts to snarl something at me harshly but Pyre interrupts her.

"Aha! You are schizophrenic. That's awesome. No one here really has a legitimate mental disorder…they're mostly just troubled teens…suicide failures. Bulimics. Anorexics. Of course, Thompson thinks that he was abducted by aliens…" she trails off, and then shakes her head to get herself back on topic. "But anyways, that really is cool! I wonder if maybe the voices or the things you see are really there on another plane of existence, you know? I know! I'll stick around you, huh? I might figure out how to be able to get into contact with them somehow. I've always wanted to light a phantom on fire!"

Quinn's mouth is dangling open. It's not attractive. But I'd have to touch her face to get her to close it, and that's not in my contract. It's solved though, when she snaps her jaw shut and says, "Are you insane?"

Pyre looks at her oddly.

"Um, duh?"

Pyre turns and skips down the hallway like a loon.

"What's a kleptomaniac? And a nymphomaniac?" I ask reluctantly. I don't know what they are, and I want to be prepared for whatever this nutter decides she's going to do next. Pyromaniac was easy with the…procured matches from earlier.

"A kleptomaniac is a person who is constantly stealing," Quinn says, following Pyre automatically. She sounds like she's in a trance. So much for faking her mental stability. "And a nymphomaniac is…er…basically, a perpetually horny girl."

I feel the screws in my own jaw pop out. I'm definitely going to see way too much of that girl. Why couldn't Quinn have gotten a slightly normal roommate?

"And this is the Yellow Ward girl's bathroom!" Pyre steps to the side so we can see. She is waving her arms in a grand flourish, like the tiled walls are revolutionary. "Come on in, I will give you a tour. It's quite thrilling in here. We've got the nicest toilet seats ever."

Quinn steps in reluctantly. I follow, even more so.

"Look at the sinks!" Pyre says, scampering over to them. Quinn whimpers and follows her. I have to blink a maggot out of my eye in disbelief, because suddenly Quinn's sitting on the edge of the sink, pinned against a mirror by Pyre.

"Reb-…Pyre!" Quinn yelps. She's trying to kick Pyre off but she's too close. "Anathema, help!"

I watch the pair of them for a moment, debating. Pyre…a nymphomaniac. Obviously. Let's see…I'm not at all obligated to help Quinn in this situation – her life is definitely not in danger. But for one thing, this is not a very pleasing sight. I'm actually rather disturbed. Quinn is holding her off sufficiently though…but I suppose Pyre is stronger and will eventually win out.

"Anathema!" Quinn yells again.

Then again, this kind of experience might traumatize Quinn. If she becomes any more demented, then she'll never be released from this place. And she has a greater likelihood of dying in the outside world. There's almost no way for her to go in a place like this…outside…the possibilities are endless. She might get hit by a car or fall off a building or down the stairs…and then I'd be free to restart my year and eventually get back to my own realm…

It's settled. I grab the back of Pyre's shirt and pull her off of Quinn. I don't release her immediately, so she's a few feet in the air, kicking her feet and thrashing about. A combination of human expletives and shrieks pours out of her mouth, so I finally drop her. She lands on her butt, but she looks thrilled.

"I knew it! They are tangible! That means I can light it on fire!" She immediately jumps up and strikes a match on her teeth and starts to wave it around in my general direction.

I don't know what to say – the sight is too bizarre. Pyre jumps up and down waving the match, then drops down and crawls around, still waving it. I give Quinn a look, but she's too busy recovering from Pyre's assault.

"Don't be a pansy," I snap at her. "Suck it up and get her away from me."

Quinn slides off the edge of the sink and starts shouting things. It's too high pitched for me to stand, so I float there, trying to get the ringing out of my ears. I'm not bothered by missing what she's saying – it's not like anything that she thinks matters. Pyre stops crawling around. She glances at the flame, which has eaten most of the match, and puts it out before it can get to her fingers. Then she stands up and starts laughing. Quinn stops yelling and stares at her.

She's doubled over laughing, holding her stomach.

"That was the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me!" she cries with mirth. "If I wasn't already crazy, I'd be really worried!"

"Wh-what?" Quinn says, taking a step back.

"That thing that just picked me up. It obviously exists!" Pyre says excitedly.

It would seem that all humans are _obviously_ cursed with acute stupidity.

Quinn is giving her a guarded look, but Pyre just keeps prattling about how much she wants to light me on fire and steal from me. I'm slightly uncomfortable. It feels a lot like it did when I thought Quinn could see my God form. I get sick of listening to Pyre go on and on, so I reach up and pluck a maggot from my head. I pinch it between my fingers and then drop it on Pyre's buzzed head. She shrieks and jumps a mile. It crawls around for a moment, then slowly disintegrates.

"WHAT WAS THAT?" she yells, clawing at her scalp.

It was payback.

"Rebecca? Quinn?" a voice comes from the hallway. Anna walks in a moment later. "There you are."

"I thought you trusted me?" Pyre pouts, taking her hand off her head.

"I realized how dumb that sounded just a few minutes ago. Come on, it's time for dinner."

Pyre sighs, but then brightens.

"Hey!" she cheers. "I almost forgot about that part! Wait till you meet the other lunatics!"

Quinn looks like she'd rather do anything but. I have to agree with her. If Pyre gets along with them, who knows what they're like?

* * *

**A/N: Some new characters, hooray. Feel free to review.**


	5. Lunatics and Free Time

**A/N: Whew. I almost forgot to upload. During summer vacations, I have no idea what day of the week it is. The next chapter, next week will be after I start school, so I will do my best to remember with all of the craziness going on. Now I can officially say I'm sophomoric! But it's funnier now. Ha-haa.**

* * *

They're coming to take me away, ha-haaa.  
They're coming to take me away, ho-ho, hee-hee, ha-haaa.  
To the funny farm, where life is beautiful all the time and I'll be happy  
to see those nice young men in their clean white coats and they're coming  
to take me away, ha-haaa!  
To the happy home, with trees and flowers and chirping birds and basket  
weavers who sit and smile and twiddle their thumbs and toes and they're  
coming to take me away, ha-haa!  
To the funny farm, where life is beautiful all the time...

_Neurotic Fish - They're Coming to Take Me Away_

* * *

Chapter Five: Lunatics and Free Time

* * *

**72 Days Left**

* * *

I peer over Quinn's shoulder at the mass of soggy food on the tray. It looks like something a God of Death would sneeze.

The cafeteria is large with two food queues. The different wards are assigned different tables. Orderlies and nurses patrol around so that no one tries to choke to death on the gruel they're being served.

Quinn is sitting at the end of a long cafeteria table. Her side is abandoned, of course. You don't have to be me to realize she's not very desirable. The other end of the table is filled with other patients, but they're not looking at her. Quinn pokes an unidentifiable glob of food with her plastic spoon (which doesn't make any sense. You can do just as much damage with a spoon as you can with a knife. Ever hear of scooping someone's eyeballs out?) and sighs.

"Are you going to eat that?" I inquire at Quinn. She straightens up some.

"Why, do you want it?"

"No," I answer. "I just want to know if I can count on you dying of starvation any time soon." She rolls her eyes and shoves a spoonful of something into her mouth. I shudder.

"Can't you see my lifespan?"

"That's foul," I say, referring both to the mysterious substance and the fact that I just watched her eat something.

"So don't look."

"I'm trying not to, but I'm obviously a glutton for punishment. I enjoy thinking horrible thoughts about you, therefore, no matter how hard I try, I can't look away from your unsightly face."

She growls and brandishes the spoon at me.

"Darling," Pyre says. She's appeared by Quinn's side, fresh out of the cafeteria "food" queue. Her bandanna is off again, probably stuffed down her shirt. I don't want to think about whether the matches she had are there as well, or back in their original hiding place."That's not how we solve our problems with the paranormal beings. We must simply light them on fire." I clench my jaw.

"Come on," she says. "You're sitting by us or I'll cut your chest open and pour banana slurpee into your right lung until the blood vessels swell up and turn yellow." She adjusts her tray in her hands and grabs Quinn. Quinn tries not to move, but with a fair amount of maneuvering on Pyre's part, she's slid to the other end of the table, beside a sallow looking girl. Pyre walks over the top of the table and sits across from her.

"Everyone!" Pyre announces. "This is Quinn and she's insane! We all have something in common with her, so I want all of you to be nice." The three patients look up at Quinn, who's leaning towards me for some inexplicable reason. Protection? Of the people here, I'm the least likely to be on her side. Everything in this world harks back to my earlier statement: Humans are utterly stupid.

"This is Aidan," Pyre says, pointing at a boy with lank, greasy hair and black shadows under his eyes. He looks like a younger version of my human form, actually. "He's mute. And…I think that's it. Mute and severely apathetic."

"This is Thompson. He's the one I told you about earlier," Pyre informs Quinn. Thompson's vivid green eyes dart up to her when she says this. He leans to the side and whispers something in her ear, but she just shrugs. "She's not an alien, don't worry." Thompson doesn't look convinced. He sinks down on the bench until only his eyes and up can be seen from over the edge of the table. He's about eighteen, with messy blond hair. His eyes fix themselves on Quinn and watch her, narrowed. Quinn shifts uncomfortably.

"And last but not least, this is Chloe!" Pyre sings. She stands up and leans across the table, pecking the black haired girl beside Quinn on the cheek. "She's bulimic, depressed, and a suicide failure. Aren't you, my sweet pearl?" Chloe lifts her chin towards Quinn by way of greeting, and then looks back down at her food.

Aidan is slowly and mechanically shoving spoonfuls of food into his mouth. Thompson is still slunk down, glaring across the table at Quinn. Chloe is just playing with her food. Pyre is eating hers with gusto. Quinn is twitching.

How did I come to be among the scum of the Human World? What did I do to deserve the one Death Note owner who'd get locked in a Psych Ward among its drooling occupants? It's so unfair.

* * *

After dinner they get a few hours of recreation. Thompson and Chloe play ping pong while Aidan sits and stares at the television.

"Come on!" Pyre says, grabbing Quinn's hand. "I'm going to give you the royal treatment!" I follow them into a small computer lab. All of the monitors are facing the nurse's desk, so they can see what the patients are looking at. Pyre doesn't seem concerned with this, and immediately types a web address in. When it loads, I forget to float and crash into the ground with surprise. Has she lost – oh, wait.

Quinn's face is a mask of horror and fright. Pyre is looking supremely satisfied with herself. She crosses her arms and leans back in her chair.

"Normally they block this kind of website," Pyre says proudly. "But as a nymphomaniac, I have needs. I found a way to get through the firewalls. This stuff is like crack to me."

Quinn is turning green, and I can't really blame her. I dust myself off and rise into the air again.

"And you have to sleep in the same room as her," I say to Quinn, who goes even greener.

"Rebecca, what on earth are you doing?" a nurse who is not Anna says, walking over. I glance up at her name: Katherine. Katherine looks over Pyre's shoulder and blanches.

"Get out," she thunders, pointing toward the door. Thompson and Chloe stare at Pyre and Quinn as they walk out of the lab while Katherine struggles to close out the raunchy webpage.

"Damn," Pyre mutters. "Now I have to hack into it all over again."

Quinn is glaring at her. She turns on her heel and walks up to the nurse's desk.

"I want to go to my room. Where is it?" she demands. The nurses are looking reluctant, but then Anna pipes up.

"I'll take you there. Normally you wouldn't be allowed to leave the lobby at this time unless you were ill in some way, but as it's your first day, I'm sure you want a little bit of quiet time." She walks around the desk and puts a hand on Quinn's shoulder, escorting her out of the lobby.

"She's your roommate," I remind her. "You can't really escape her."

Anna shows Quinn inside a room. There are two twin beds on either side, but other than that, the room is barren and impersonal. Exactly like you'd imagine a hospital room. I'd almost forgotten where we were – that Pyre brat seems to have odd effects on people. She was so hatefully cheerful that it was hard to think we are in a miserable imprisonment.

Anna tells Quinn that there will be someone by to check on her regularly, but to go ahead and relax. Quinn nods and Anna leaves, leaving the door slightly ajar.

I'm surprised to see a smile curl Quinn's lips.

"What?" I ask. "Are you back to your old self? You seemed so depressed when we first arrived…I suppose this has been a whirlwind of emotions for someone as mentally frail as you."

She sits down on the edge of a bed and it creaks under the new weight.

"Back to my old self…I don't think that's a good way to say it. My old self wasn't exactly a patient in a mental institute. But I am feeling better."

"Not that I give, but why is that?"

She bounces slightly on the bed.

"I'm not sure. I guess it's because I was sort of a mess after I killed my shrink. Maybe it was just a side effect of the shock of killing someone," she muses. "The influence that the Death Note has on a person…it changed things so much. It was enough to land us in here – so what do you think would happen if I played around with the Death Note, to see what I can see? I could experiment for awhile – I'm sure I could survive Pyre. I don't dislike her. She's interesting, actually."

"I don't really care," I say honestly. "And you see monsters. I don't think it will cure your insanity."

She hisses.

"Stop saying that. I'm not insane. The only reason I'm in here is because I killed someone."

"Those things go hand in hand," I comment, just to piss her off.

"You've used the Death Note," she says. "Does that make you insane?"

"I am a God of Death," I say immediately. "I am nothing like a human. I'm a superior figure to that of you. You're less than a rat. I refuse to be, nor can I be, associated with any human terms."

"Sheesh," she scolds. "You have such a short temper. Are you really that defensive of yourself?"

"I am merely stating a fact. Although, I don't know why I bother. I don't have to have anything to do with you, strictly speaking. I told you the rules of the Death Note. My obligations have been carried out."

She closes her eyes and smirks.

"So why do you talk to me? Why do you follow me around? You could go anywhere in this hospital you want to, but you stay beside me. You need a kick in the ass, Mr. Holier than Thou. Or should I say, Unholier."

I narrow my eyes and sweep across the room towards her, so that I am face to face with her. I hate the proximity, but I'm too angry to care.

"You think you could even begin to comprehend the mind of a God of Death? My, how incredibly powerful you must be. No – you are low. You're an infant. You're insignificant. You occupy this world for less than a nanosecond on the grand scale of time. Your pathetically short life, your pathetically low brain function," I spit. "You disgust me."

She frowns and starts to say something undoubtedly borne from her painfully narrow opinion, but the door opens and Pyre walks in, holding a box. All of my anger immediately drains away. Curse that despicable whelp.

"Hey Roomie!" she says. "I ran into Cathy and she said that you had a box of Scrabble in the other room earlier, so I decided to bring it!" Quinn rearranges her face and turns toward Pyre.

"Oh," she says simply, but I can detect traces of her annoyance at me.

"I thought maybe the phantom could play with us too! How about it, Mr. Phantom?" Pyre says cheerfully, turning in a circle as if trying to locate me. "I suppose it could be Ms. Phantom too…hey, what if you ARE a miss? I bet you're really cute. You should come out where I can light you – er, see you."

My brow wrinkles against my will. She's so ridiculous. But I'm beginning to feel like a spectator in Quinn's dreadfully dull life. It's time I do something for myself. It won't benefit Quinn at all to have me play, so I see no harm in it.

Pyre lies down on the floor and unfolds the gameboard. She sets up the racks and plops the bag of tiles into the center. Quinn sighs and sits down on the floor. After a moment's hesitation, I reach into the bag and pull out a tile. I see Pyre's eyes widen but she clamps her mouth shut. Good. The last thing I need is a smug remark from her.

A few minutes into the game, Pyre strikes a match and proceeds to try to light me on fire. It doesn't catch though, so the flames just fizzle out by her fingers. It doesn't seem to hurt her, even though she is burned several times. Quinn has half her attention on this phenomenon.

"So your imprisonment here has something to do with your pyromaniac antics, am I right?" Quinn asks.

"Aha!" Pyre laughs. "I see you've gotten over your muteness. I'm sorry that I acted so outlandishly, but I just returned from the Red Ward, and I was deprived of…everything."

"You were in the Red Ward?" Quinn frowns, placing a tile on the Scrabble board. "What for?"

"Weeeelll," Pyre drawls, enthusiastically slapping a tile down beside another. "I've been in and out of all of the wards a couple times. I'm actually here because I lit my hair on fire awhile back. That's why it's so short." She runs a hand over her extremely short, buzzed brown hair.

"I don't think being a pyro makes you a masochist as well," Quinn says. I smirk underneath my chain mask. I could picture the little moron lighting her hair on fire.

"Nah. That's just me. Anyways, after it was burned and cut so short, I just kept it that way." Pyre says. She puts another tile down beside my recently completed word, (MORON) making it plural (MORONS). She can read my intentions like a book. "I stayed in the Red Ward for awhile, then got moved down to Yellow, where I met Thompson, Chloe, and Aidan. Then eventually was moved to the Green Ward. Then I guess they didn't like the way I was acting. I think they defined it as suicidal tendencies. Anyways, I was moved back up to Yellow Ward."

"And then what happened?"

Pyre grins crookedly.

"I bounced between those two wards for awhile, then my older brother came and visited me. Apparently my parents hadn't told him that I was here. He was off at college. He came by and gave me a few strike-anywhere matches."

Quinn snickers and slides a few tiles into place.

"It must be nice to have someone on your side," she said, with a significant look at me. I ignore her and play with the tiles on the rack in front of me. Pyre is giving it a look, so I immediately stop and straighten up, throwing her a rude face that she can't see. She's making this difficult. They're lucky I'm even playing with them. I wait for her to place a tile, then immediately build off the "I" she just used, turning it into _Idiot._

Pyre looks at it for a moment, then leans back and cackles.

"But why would he bring you matches, even if he was on your side?" Quinn presses.

"Eh. He's my brother. We've got some kind of special bond that somehow formed when he moved out. I guess he misses me or something. Or feels sorry for me because I'm in a mental hospital. But anyways, with the matches…I lit my eyelashes on fire so they moved me to the Red Ward. The nurses put me out before my eyes could be harmed at all, and my eyelashes eventually grew back, but it took about two months. The nurses all know I carry matches, but they look the other way. I'm not sure why. They'd probably lose their jobs if anyone found out."

I disregard my anger at Quinn for a moment so I can glance at her.

"She _lit_ her _eyelashes_ on _fire_?" I say incredulously.

Quinn fights to keep a straight face – Pyre notices and says, "What'd Mr. Phantom say?"

"Don't say anything," I instruct Quinn.

She just smiles wider, but doesn't answer either of us. What a little twit.

* * *

**A/N: Thank for reading. Feel free to review.  
**

**You should check out Andruindel's Escape With Ease!  
**


	6. The Mark and Morning Sessions

**A/N: Eep! I'm a few days behind! Sorry. Had to leave town immediately after school (which is already crippling. Bah.) and only just got back. **

**Before you start this chapter, I want to say: I don't mean to offend anyone who is under similar circumstances as my mental patient characters. It's just who they are.**

* * *

_Our eyes barely even meet, but our fates are intertwined_

_Our destinations are exactly the same, so run through the unbearable night alongside me_

_Even if the radiance that we chased too far  
Continues into bad dreams_

_T.M. Revolution - Resonance_

* * *

Chapter Six: The Mark and Morning Sessions

* * *

**71 Days Left**

* * *

"So she didn't murder you in your sleep," I say, floating near the ceiling. Quinn just turned over in her bed and opened her eyes. I drop a few feet. "I'm slightly disappointed."

"Good morning!" she says brightly.

"No, it's not."

Quinn sits up and rubs her eyes. She swings her spindly little human legs over the edge of the bed and stands up, glancing at the motionless pile of Pyre in the other bed.

"I already checked. She's not dead either," I comment. Quinn walks over to Pyre's bed in her weird little bare feet. She's just asking for trouble there. If she gets assaulted, it's her fault. I watch as she leans over the sleeping mass. "You're _poking_ her? You _are_ crazy."

Quinn looks up at me and rolls her eyes.

"She knows the morning routine for this place. There's no way I'm going to just sit here and wait to see what the rest of my life is going to look like." As she turns back to Pyre, I look at her as well. Her eyes have snapped open. She sits up suddenly, grabbing for Quinn. Quinn screams and flees backwards several feet.

"What?" Quinn cries. "What are you doing?"

Pyre continues to get up, untangling herself from the sheets. She's only wearing a huge, thin shirt, so I look in exactly the opposite direction. Quinn runs over to me and tries to hide but I float upwards several feet. Even though Pyre can't see me...if it's possible, Quinn is even more stupid in the morning. Quinn abandons this feat and runs toward the door.

"You're pretty caged, you know," I observe. "Better run fast."

Pyre is shuffling after Quinn sleepily. Quinn looks back and yelps. She grabs the door handle and pulls it open, still looking behind her. She runs out the door.

"Oof!" a voice gasps. "What on earth are you doing?"

Pyre stops walking, and I make my way over to the door. Quinn is recovering from colliding with the nurse from yesterday, Anna. Does that woman ever leave this place? If it were me, I'd take all the time I could away from the scummy youth here.

"Oh – sorry!" Quinn says hurriedly. Pyre walks up next to Quinn and puts an arm around her waist. Anna the nurse doesn't notice, but Quinn stiffens. I snicker.

"I was just coming to wake you girls up," Anna says. "You have breakfast then a group therapy session."

" 'Kay," Pyre yawns, bringing a hand covered in an overlarge sleeve up over her mouth. I resist the urge to shiver, watching her. Where could her matches be now? Then I catch myself. I've seen far more violence and vulgarity in the worlds than she could ever imagine. What are some matches up her – hidden.

I meant hidden.

Anna smiles and steps back from the doorway.

"There's an attendant in the bathroom, so you can go shower if you want."

Pyre bumbles off, scratching her leg under the shirt. Quinn stays where she is.

"I prefer to shower in the evenings. Is that okay?"

Anna thinks for a moment.

"I suppose that's fine. We'll just need to get someone to watch you. Your mother hasn't dropped off any new clothing for you, so I brought you some." Quinn accepts the pile of clothes and Anna allows her to dress in the room. I look the other direction, but Quinn starts talking.

"The Death Note is still in the wall in the other room, right?" she asks.

"I'm surprised you even remembered. Idiot."

"Good," she says, ignoring everything but the bare minimum of my response. "We should just keep it there unless we need it for something. We can't risk a nurse finding it."

"_You_ should keep it there unless _you_ need it for something. _You_ can't risk a nurse finding it," I correct, staring at the wall. She finishes changing and walks out of the room. Anna leads her to the cafeteria and she sits down at the table from last night after getting a tray. Only Thompson and Aidan are there, picking at greasy eggs. I hover near Quinn, but am careful to avoid looking at the humans eating. Mouths and digestion is disgusting.

"Sooo," Quinn says awkwardly. The two human boys are silent. Thompson is giving her the same look as last night, probably trying to decide if she was truly an alien or not. Aidan, of course, says nothing.

"You have the Mark," Thompson says suddenly. Quinn looks surprised.

"The mark?"

"The Mark. You've been contacted by aliens." Thompson is glaring at her. I resist the urge to nod smugly at Quinn.

"How can you tell?" Quinn asks. She sounds slightly interested. Of course, she's nuts, so I guess it's no surprise. But maybe she's just trying to keep up a conversation for some socially correct reason. Not that she should know anything about something like that.

Thompson gestures towards her left hand. Quinn holds it up questioningly. As soon as she does, Thompson hisses and ducks down under the table, like he did the night before, with only his eyes and the top of his head showing. Loon.

"Get it away. I don't want to be abducted again."

Quinn drops her hand and he slides back up into his seat.

"Was he probed?" I joke raucously. Quinn leans back a bit and takes swipe at me like she's just gesturing. It clips me, though, and I roar with disgust. "I'll murder you!" She just smirks and puts her chin on her hands, continuing to converse with Probe-Boy.

"So what exactly is wrong with my hand?"

Thompson looks at her oddly.

"Like I said. It means you were abducted by aliens. Or at least contacted by them. They Mark their victims like someone would tag an animal. To keep track of them. And eventually, they'll use the Mark to control the human so they can take over the world."

"That seems like a lot of work," Quinn mutters, looking at her left hand. I pause my fit of disgust and look at it as well. It's normal, for a human hand. But it's also the hand she used to write her shrink's name in the Death Note. Could that mean anything to Thompson?

"So why weren't you Marked?" Quinn asks. "If you were abducted, wouldn't they have Marked you?"

"They tried," Thompson says darkly. "But I escaped before they could finish. I stole one of their spacecraft and crashed back into the Earth. Then I cut it out."

"_Cut it out_?" Quinn yelps, looking more dumbstruck than usual. "You mean…with a _knife_?"

Thompson nods, glancing around for staff. Seeing no one looking, he pulls up his white standard-issue shirt so that we can see his side. A great chunk of flesh was scooped out, surrounded by ragged scar stitching.

"If you want, I could help you get rid of your Mark."

"No thanks!" Quinn says immediately. She clutches her hand to her chest.

Thompson gives her an angry look.

"Then stay away from me. You're just one more brainwashed alien troop in their army." I snort.

"You know," I say to Quinn. "He's onto something. You're left handed. You killed your shrink with that hand. Isn't that ironic?" Her eyes flick to me, but she doesn't say anything. She sighs deeply, then brightens.

"What's your story?" she says to Aidan. His black eyes look at her, but he says nothing. "Oh, right."

"Yep." Pyre sits down beside Quinn, Chloe right behind her. "I told you, he's mute. But sometimes he uses his own version of sign language…sometimes I can understand it, sometimes I can't. But anyways…his story…mute, apathetic…malevolent sociopath…he's a tough cookie. He's here because his parents stuck him here when he didn't respond to any kind of medication. They were a young couple and couldn't really deal with him."

"I see," Quinn says.

I look at the hunched boy. I can't help but be a bit stirred by his story – I'd never show it though. He was banished to a hostile place because of false assumptions. Sort of like me. Not exactly, since I'm not a scrawny little runt…

But close.

"Chloe?" Quinn says tentatively. The girl looks up at her and shrugs.

"What Pyre said last night. Suicidal. Bulimic. Depressed. I've tried to kill myself a few times. I tried to electrocute myself with a hairdryer. Hurt like hell, but it didn't work. Drank ammonia once. That one was rough. Cut. Pills. That's it. I've been in and out of almost every hospital in the state. It's been a circus." She has a slow, thoughtful voice. It's slightly deep for a girl, with a raspy hitch to it. From the ammonia? She's not as bad as Ryuk though. That I must admit.

"Wow," Quinn breathed. "Do you live nearby, or is this just another hospital for you? How long has it been?"

"No. I lived in Brooklyn Heights during all that, with my parents. But they gave up and shipped me here. Those suicide attempts were spread out over about five years."

"Five years…" Quinn counted. "So it started when you were…twelve?"

"Eleven."

"Brooklyn Heights…wow. That area is gorgeous. I visited a friend there a few years ago."

"What's your point?"

"Well," Quinn said slowly, no doubt trying to put her simple little human thought pieces together. "How can you have been among beauty like that and not have seen a reason to keep living?"

I perked up at this. I was actually interested in what human's thought of their own lives. It was sort of intriguing, in a pathetic way. They were so painfully ignorant of what meaningless lives they lead.

But Chloe doesn't seem to want to give a deep, philosophical answer. She just shrugs again. Quinn looks at her a moment longer, but decides that Chloe is done talking. I slump down in the air, slightly disappointed. Oh well. I had the smallest bit of respect for her – she had some idea about the insignificance of a human life. Her suicidal tendencies were proof of that.

The group dissolved into silence. Not even Pyre was talkative after that. Eventually they got up and dumped their trays. An attendant led them to their group therapy session. They were all scheduled together – I suppose it made things easier.

Once they were in the small grey conference room, however, Pyre gradually started brightening again. She managed to get Thompson talking. He was still hooked on Quinn's "Mark", but he seemed to have decided that she was at least safe to talk to. Which was not technically true. She has a way of dragging you down to her level of stupidity, so you can never return – I'm only immune because I'm not human. If I could warn him, I would.

Probably.

After a few minutes of Pyre's head-splitting laughter, a doctor walks in. He's tall and slightly bulky. Bald. Mid-40s. His name reads Donovan Jakes. I immediately don't like him. I don't-like him a lot more than most humans. But his time is quite short.

"Hello!" he says cheerfully. Pyre looks at him like he's something she just scraped off her shoe. I can't help but feel a wave of respect for her then. She's a good judge of character. I suppose.

Jakes sits down in front of the semicircle, looking them all over appraisingly with a smug, confident smile on his face. It looks friendly…but I can tell it pisses both Pyre and Quinn off. When did I get so empathetic?

"I'm Dr. Jakes, I'm going to be your new counselor for both mornings and evenings."

"Evenings?" Pyre asks. "We just have morning sessions."

"Starting today," Jakes smiles obnoxiously, "you now have both."

I see a vein pop in Pyre's forehead, but she doesn't say anything. Jakes is still smiling at the taut audience before him.

"Where's Ms. Lienel?" Chloe asks, while examining her nails.

"She was moved to another ward. Now, I'd like to get started. I've read through all of your files, so I'm just going to start off with a question…" he paused. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, here we go," Pyre mutters. Then, louder, "When a mommy and daddy love each other very much…" she cuts her own self off. The nasty smile hasn't left Jakes' face. For some reason, my urges to kill humans (other than Quinn) had diminished slightly ever since Quinn took my Death Note. Probably because I'd had no direct contact with a human other than her.

But they were back again. I very badly want this guy dead. I won't have to wait long, though. The thought makes me want to giggle, and I don't giggle. Ever.

He waits for an answer, but all of the patients are resolutely silent. He turns to Aidan.

"Aidan. Why do you think you are here?"

Aidan glowers up at him from underneath his eyebrows. His obsidian eyes are cold. Jakes smiles blandly at him with a hand on his own knee. When he doesn't look away, Aidan does something odd. He holds out a hand, and raises the other. He slaps the side of his hand down onto the palm of his other, like he is trying to chop it in half. The rest of the room stares at him a moment.

"Oh, yeah," Pyre says. "This is the sign language I told you about, Quinn." She turns to the stupid doctor. "He says he hopes you choke in afterbirth." Quinn snorts and covers her face with her hand, hiccupping. I look at Aidan, slightly amused. Emotion flashes in his eyes, but then vanishes. I can only interpret it as…satisfaction? Quinn is giggling, but I can't hate her for it. Chloe is fighting off a smile as well, even though she's still looking at her cuticles. Pyre, of course, is flat out guffawing. A small smile springs to my lips, hidden behind my mask.

The doctor closes his eyes briefly, still wearing that hateful smile. He leans back in his chair. Even his posture is getting on my nerves. I take it back. Forty-five days is a long time to wait, when I think about this guy.

"What about you Chloe?" he asks, as if he hadn't heard the last statement. Chloe doesn't look up from her nails.

"Because my piece-of-shit parents stuck me here."

"And why would they do that?"

But Chloe is done talking again. Jakes waits for a moment before turning to the human I possess. Unfortunately.

"Quinn. I recognize you as the newest member. You arrived yesterday, correct? This is your first session with any of us," he says to her. She doesn't respond, but he doesn't wait. "Do you think you are here because of the things your schizophrenia causes you to see?" Quinn is silent.

"I will tell you, that no, that is not the answer. You're not here because you see things. Simple medication can take care of that. You are actually here because you refuse to believe that what you see isn't real. You haven't accepted that the…" he consults a paper in his lap. "…'monsters' you see aren't real."

I can see where this is going…that's almost exactly what the other shrink had said before Quinn killed him. This guy didn't have long – I glance up at his lifespan. Quinn is sneering quietly, crossing her arms and slumping defiantly in her seat.

Jakes gives her an amused glance and continues to press about her schizophrenia. I can see Quinn get more and more irritated. Even the other patients are starting to get restless, listening to it.

I hate this guy. He's making fun of Quinn, sure, but he's doing it for the wrong reasons. I like to tell her she's stupid and crazy because she is. It messes with her. But he's calling her crazy for entirely selfish reasons. He's giving people like me a bad name. That perverse smile of his hasn't once dropped off his face.

Pyre shifts in her seat, giving Quinn a nervous glance. I watch as she squares her shoulders and arranges her expression carefully, so it's amused and obnoxious. I feel my face change. I reach up underneath my chain mask for clarification – yes. I am shocked. Why? How can I feel surprised, and at the same time, not be sure?

I snap away from my thoughts and watch Pyre.

"Hey," she says with a sideways grin. "I come here to fix my own mental instabilities, not listen to someone else's. Why don't you ask me about my mania for lighting things on fire?" Quinn's shoulders slump, and I can see she's relieved that she's free from his rapid fire accusations. I lean back against the wall. Things are getting boring again. But something about the way Pyre steeled herself to intercept Jakes bothered me. Was everything about her an act, or was she just behaving according to some unwritten human law of compassion? Help your friends and fellow mental patients or something?

* * *

As soon as the session ends (it was taken over by Pyre. Who knew that whelp was such a master of impromptu therapy?) I get up, feeling my exoskeleton crack, and follow Quinn out the door. She detaches herself from the group of patients and walks towards the nurse's station.

"Can I go lie down for a bit in my room?" she asks. A nurse we haven't seen before nods and tells her that there will be someone by to check on her in a few minutes. Quinn smiles and walks off.

Once in her room, she throws herself down on her bed and stares up at the ceiling. I attempt to learn the human thing called yoga in the middle of the room to pass the time, since Quinn doesn't look up for conversation. Pleasant or otherwise. I've got an eternity either way, so why not?

Cathy Dawe the nurse comes in a few minutes later, along with two orderlies. She's holding a small paper cup and a baggie with two pills in it. I eye them from the Scorpion pose (I'm cheating at it, but only a bit. If I can float, then why can't I float?). The pills look benign enough, but if Quinn is a diagnosed schizophrenic, there's definitely not sunshine or butterflies in those little capsules.

She seems to be thinking the same thing.

"Here," she says, thrusting it at Quinn. "This is your daily prescription. They're mandatory, according to your doctor."

"Why haven't I met my doctor?" Quinn frowns. She takes the bag and examines it. Cathy Dawe smiles but waits for Quinn to take the pills. Quinn opens the bag and takes out a pill, sticking it in her mouth. Her mouth twists, then she grabs the other and shoves it in too. She accepts the glass of water from Cathy Dawe and takes a swig. Then she sits there.

"Open," Cathy Dawe says. Quinn looks confused, keeping her mouth fused shut. I shimmy over on my forearms, not wanting to break the pose. Quinn is trying to find a way to stall opening her mouth. But Cathy Dawe grabs her jaw and pries her mouth open. Quinn tries to fight her, causing water and two white pills to spurt out of her mouth and nose.

I exclaim with disgust, dodging masterfully and maintaining my pose. I was nearly five feet away – that was quite a range.

The two orderlies grab Quinn's arms as Cathy Dawe pulls another bag out of her scrubs. This time Quinn is forced to take the pills. Cathy Dawe holds her nose until she swallows. I wince. Humans. Cruel, but primitive. Different from Gods of Death.

The three leave Quinn there, gasping and spluttering. I watch her from my pose as she tries to disguise her sniffs as clearing her throat.

Pyre walks in a few minutes later, looking sympathetic.

"Your first medication, right?"

Quinn massages her jaw where the nurse grabbed it and nods.

"They're absolutely batshit about that. Cathy is the only nurse that I truly can't stand. As for the orderlies, they're just little soldiers," Pyre continues. She sits down at the end of the bed, looking far more welcome than the squat little Cathy Dawe who was just there.

"There's something you should know about this place," she says. "It's something that Chloe and I have figured out, based on how long we've both been here. It's a points system. We've decided that it takes about 1000 points to get moved down a ward. You get five points for attending your therapy sessions, ten for taking your meds, and five for talking to a nurse. You get ten for laughing. You lose ten for sleeping too much. Minus ten for crying. Minus twenty for not taking your meds. It's much easier to get into the negatives than to move down a ward." Pyre leans back against the wall. "Don't tell a nurse what's going on if you see something, okay? That's digging your own grave."

Quinn nods. Pyre is quiet a moment, then sits up suddenly, and grabs Quinn's hand.

"Come on. It's lunchtime. The lunatics are waiting for us."

She drags Quinn off the bed. Quinn seized the corner of the wall so she isn't immediately pulled out of the room.

"I don't think I'm welcome there. Thompson still thinks I'm an alien."

"Nah. He thinks everyone is an alien. Let's go."

"I'll be there in two minutes," Quinn says desperately, losing her grip. "I promise. I just need a moment."

Pyre stops pulling and stares into Quinn's face.

"Fine. But hurry up." She leaves the room. Quinn turns to me. I haven't moved from my Scorpion pose. I'm afraid my back might snap at this point.

"Go get a page."

* * *

**A/N: Yeah. She went there. Okay, I'll update on time this week! Promise!**

**Feel free to review!**


	7. The Second Killing

**__A/N: Oh, hello. I'm back again. And I realized that I totally failed on the last chapter - I switched tenses accidentally. Poop. However, I still can't be bothered to go through and check that I'm okay on this chapter, because I have homework. (IT'S FRIDAY, UGH.) I think that's all I had to say...umm..hmm...I only have through chapter 11 written, so I'm going to try and do some of that this weekend. That's not important. I'll shut up. Enjoy!**

* * *

_Do you live, do you die, do you bleed  
For the fantasy  
In your mind, through your eyes, do you see  
It's the fantasy_

_Say it, say it, say what you believe_  
_Say it, say it, to me_

_Do you live, do you die, do you bleed_  
_For the fantasy_  
_Automatic, I imagine, I believe_

_Do you live_  
_Do you die_  
_Do you bleed_  
_For the fantasy_

_30 Seconds to Mars – The Fantasy_

* * *

Chapter Seven: The Second Killing

* * *

I phase through several walls until I find my way back to the room from yesterday. I reach inside the wall and pluck the Death Note from it. I rip out a page, sneak a pen from the nurse's station, then return to Quinn.

"Her name is Cathy Dawe," Quinn says, tapping the pen against her chin. "Pyre called her Cathy, and she introduced herself as Cathy Dawe the first day I came here. See? I don't need the eyes of a God of Death to be awesome." I bare my teeth behind my mask as she leans over the page and scribbles down the name. She stuffs the page in her shoe, hiding it under her pants leg. "For safekeeping," she explains. Then she sits down on her bed again, and we both time the forty seconds in our head.

When we get to thirty-five, Cathy Dawe walks into the room again.

Quinn sits bolt upright, looking panicked.

"Oh," I say with interest. "I guess we get to watch."

Quinn's face is definitely saying _I don't want to watch! _

The nurse is carrying a towel, probably to clean up the mess that Quinn spat everywhere. Cathy Dawe glances at Quinn, but doesn't seem to think much of her expression. She leans down to wipe the floor with the towel, then –

Her hand clutches at her heart in a claw, like she's scratching into her torso as trying to figure out what's going on within her. She collapses on her side, then rolls to her back. And with a final, unappetizing gurgle, she quiets. Quinn is kneeling on the bed, looking horrified. Then she starts screaming, long piercing shrieks that actually stop me in my tracks, rendering me unable to appreciate the nurse's death.

Immediately, orderlies are in the room. They seize Quinn's arms after getting a look at the corpse on the floor. Quinn kicks her legs and the Death Note paper flies out and lands beside me. The orderlies don't notice as they pin her down. Her face is pressed onto the mattress, and she's sobbing in pain as her arms are twisted. I panic and grab the Death Note page.

After rapid deliberation, I stuff the paper in my mouth, causing it to disappear to the human's eyes.

It is a lucky thing that I do not have saliva.

* * *

Quinn is wearing a paper dress, and lying down, strapped to a hospital bed. She's out cold. They gave her some kind of tranquilizer. I still have the paper in my mouth because I haven't had a chance to leave the room and spit it out.

What was her problem? She didn't freak out when she killed her old shrink. And then she goes and screams like she's being dragged into Hell itself. My ears are still ringing, and I can't contain the rage inside of me for her stranding us in the isolated ward.

And I'm _bored. _It's already nighttime. We've been here all day.

I see her stirring and prepare to start shouting, albeit with my mouth full. Her eyes slowly crack open, revealing the watered down grey color I despise. She pulls weakly at her restraints before her eyes wander down to try and figure out what is going on in her drug induced state. Her gaze settles on the straps around her arms and her face immediately drops into fright.

"Get them off me," she rasps quietly. Her bulging eyes are darting around, looking at each restraint. Something makes me think that she's not talking to me. It just doesn't sound right.

"Get. Them. Off," she says again, more forcefully. Suddenly, she starts tossing fitfully, screaming.

"GET THEM OFF ME! GET THEM OFF. THEY'RE EATING ME!"

I stare at her, shocked. I don't have an urge to laugh, even though what she's saying is ridiculous.

She looks positively beside herself with terror. Her eyes are rolling with panicked madness and her limbs are taut, straining against the straps. She manages to yank her arm out of one of them, and immediately throws herself onto the other. Her fingers scrabble at her wrist and underside of her arm. She rips her nails down the soft skin there, leaving ragged red welts. She's screaming all the while.

"GET THEM OFF IT HURTS! THEY'RE BITING ME!" she screeches, tears rolling down her face. The door slams open and a nurse and orderlies rush in. I leap out of their way, even though they'd just run right through me, stunned. They wrestle her back down and she's stung with a syringe. She gradually slips back down onto the bed and they fix her restraints. They add another set of straps onto her upper arms as well. Then they leave, and it's quiet again.

I stand there for a moment, feeling torn apart. I wheel around and exit the building through the wall, dropping two stories into the street. I throw the paper to the side and it bounces off the pavement, safely hidden in a bush. Then I unfurl my wings, and with a powerful surge, I'm lifted into the inky night sky.

I can't believe that I'm hesitant. I watched that entire development with an emotion frighteningly like horror. I shouldn't care. I hate Quinn. Why can't I control my own thoughts? _What is going on? _I don't understand it. I loathe everything in the human world. I despise Quinn. I hate humans. I hate the mental hospital. I hate the little rats within it. I hate the bald doctor with the smug smile. So why am I not enjoying watching Quinn suffer? The disreputable humans who care for no one but themselves. They're the monsters. That's what Quinn should be seeing in front of her, not anything else. She shouldn't have us locked up in a place like this because she can't discern fantasy from reality.

I feel myself melding into the velvet blackness of the night as I rise higher and higher, leaving the specked lights of the city behind me. This is where I should be. In a place with naught to be seen. It is not fantasy nor reality. Godlike. Perfect. _Beautiful._

* * *

**69 Days Left**

I arrive back at the hospital as the night washes to blue. I hadn't realized how long it'd been since I saw a color other than black or white. The brightness is despicable to my slit eyes. I sneer at the bush hiding the Death Note page. If Quinn wants her secret kept, then she can just suck it up and fix her mind and come and get it herself.

I jump up and through the wall into the room. Quinn is awake. They've allowed her to sit up. Her hair is in turbulent knots and her neck creaks chillingly as she turns to face me. Her eyes are rimmed with red - dull and glassy but they focus on me. I narrow my eyes at her.

"You left me," she whispers. I stare at her apathetically.

"I was never on your side."

Her lips part in confusion, but then her eyes widen and she looks past me. She tenses up and starts breathing heavily. She doesn't scream, like her attacks yesterday.

"What is that, Anathema? What is that in the corner?" she breathes, struggling to stay calm. Her thin chest is heaving as she tries to control herself. I turn around and look where she is looking. There's nothing there. In fact, it's just as white as the rest of the room. "It's staring at me. It looks like…" she trails off, working her fingers like claws, kneading the bedsheets. She mumbles something.

"What?" I ask, leaning closer.

"I don't know," she says.

"I think you're crazy," I say coldly. "Why don't you just shut up and focus on getting out of here?" I start to sweep out of the room, but I hear her behind me.

"Don't leave! Don't leave me, Anathema! Please! It's there! It's coming!"

I stop and allow her words to run through my thoughts. I hear her breathing hitch for a moment, like she's certain she's convinced me. But no. I am simply allowing her pleas to envelope me, inside and out. I really consider the pathetic noises.

It is more satisfying when I continue to walk.

I phase through the door, hearing her screams echo down the hallways around me.

* * *

When I return to Quinn's room several hours later (after doing nothing but sitting in a supply closet) I am rather surprised to see that she's not asleep again. She is lying down, sure, but her eyes are open. Thinking that's suspicious, I raise my eyes to her name and lifespan. No, she's not dead. Which means whatever this thing she was ranting about hadn't "gotten her."

Shame.

"Wasssuuuppp," I say, being in a strangely social mood since I spent the entire day in a tiny confined space because I didn't want to do anything else. She's just staring at the ceiling. "Fine." I say. "I didn't want to talk to you anyway. How'd the Corner-Man go?"

She twitches then, and looks at me. I see that I've struck a nerve. Her insanity seems to tighten these. So I pull my mask down, hold up my hands in surrender and smile blandly. She doesn't seem to forgive me right away, but she lies back down.

* * *

**43 Days Left**

She is in the isolated Red Ward for nearly a month. Around the second week, though, she came out of whatever fits she had been having and was coherent. It's probably better that she stayed the way she was, since I wasn't a very hospitable roommate. I told her that I'd hidden the page from the staff, which was true enough. I didn't feel like mentioning the fact that it was outside now, right by the sidewalk. As fun as it would've been to make her mad, I wasn't in the mood to be yelled at.

Not to mention that the nurse's would never have let her leave if she began yelling at the air.

At the end of the first month, it came as a surprise to me when a nurse came by to take her back to the Yellow Ward. My jaw sat on the floor while Quinn was helped into the white clothing that wasn't a paper dress with no back. Then they escorted her out of the room. I reached down and grabbed my jaw and brought it with me as I followed them.

We enter the recreation lobby that feels like it should be covered to top to bottom with cobwebs. I may be immortal and live for an eternity, but locked up like that…that was horrifyingly disorienting. I feel like it's been years. But it's just as bright and clean as always. The furniture is still nailed to the ground and there's still an unidentifiable stain on the back of the sofa. Pyre would say something like: It's good to be home!

She's an idiot. I have mixed feelings about returning to the social aspect of the psych ward, and her. But, admittedly, the bitterness had faded as we left the Red Ward. At least it was more entertaining here.

The nurse takes her hand off of Quinn's arm and I can't help but imagine she's unlocking handcuffs from her wrists.

"They're at dinner," the nurse nods to Quinn. Quinn shuffles toward the cafeteria doors. Upon seeing the evaluating looks the other nurses are giving her, she manages to pick up her feet. She's undoubtedly remembering the "Points System" that Pyre told her about shortly before she killed Cathy. I imagine she's somewhere around the 0 mark, as they had let her out. I suppose they reset with each ward. Negatives are easier to obtain, of course.

Quinn is about to push the doors open when they suddenly fly outwards. One of them hits her, and she's knocked flat on her butt. The other actually hits me because I'm too surprised to do anything. It hits me, swings backward, and nails Pyre right in the face. She falls back onto her butt too. Pyre curses, then rolls around holding her head yelling something about how she's fatally wounded and she wants all of her "toys" to go to a guy named Fenoli. I recover enough to be angry. She smashed several maggots and now they're pasted to my forehead. I scrape at them then flip them off. They fade into the air.

"Oh my gosh!" Pyre yells. She crawls over to Quinn and pokes her forehead, the point of impact that took the blunt force of the door. "IT'S A BABY UNICORN!" she screams, and I see that there is a large lump there. Once again, my jaw hits the floor. I think it's defective. I'll need to get that looked at. Somehow. Maybe it's just degenerated with my time in the Human World.

Quinn grunts and boosts herself onto her elbows, smacking Pyre's hand away. She rubs the knot on her forehead. Anna runs over from the nurse's station and helps her up the rest of the way. Pyre stands up on her own.

"Thompson is going to be so happy!" she says. "He thought you were abducted by aliens. I think he's got a sweet spot for you. But I'll fight him for it."

Once Quinn is reintroduced to the table (Pyre insists on a formal induction. The nurses won't give her a saber so she can "knight" Quinn, so she just uses her leg instead. That girl is flexible. I was impressed.), it is established that Thompson was only concerned for the wellbeing of the Earth. Her disappearance was an early warning sign of alien invasion. Pyre lovingly points out Quinn's noteworthy black eye bags to Aidan who looks at her a little longer than necessary with his own black eyes.

All in all, Quinn looks uncomfortable throughout, so I'm appeased.

The nurses are keeping a careful watch on Quinn, so I'm not able to play Scrabble with them in the evening. That's okay. I am too busy fuming over the evening group session I attended with Quinn. I still want him dead, but I don't want to be locked up in the Red Ward for another month because Quinn is a pansy. He wasn't as annoying as he could have been, since the nurses probably instructed him to tone it down on Quinn for the time being. Waiting for the death of someone you hate is not an easy task.

Quinn is rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet in front of the Scrabble board with her arms around her knees.

"Just ask already," I say harshly. Pyre is lying on the ground chewing on a match and spelling out some ridiculously long word. Quinn shoots me a glare and opens her mouth to ask.

"You want to know what happened to Cathy," Pyre says flatly around the match. Quinn shuts her mouth and nods. Pyre flicks the match to the side of her mouth. "They said it was a heart attack. Funeral services were a couple weeks ago. They don't blame you, you know. But for now on, you should probably take your meds without any kind of resistance."

"Of course they wouldn't," I scoff. "They can't trace a heart attack."

"I don't know why they were so harsh on you, though," Pyre said, shrugging. "Anyone would freak out if someone died right in front of them."

Quinn stares fixedly at the Scrabble board. The door to the room opens and Anna sticks her head in.

"Lights out, girls," she says. "Get in bed."

"Would you like to join me?" Pyre says winningly. The match has disappeared so she's able to grin at Anna. Needless to say, Pyre ends up climbing into bed alone, sighing heavily.

"Why do the nurses let you get away with that?" Quinn asks from her bed.

Pyre rolls over in the darkness.

"They love me," she laughs quietly. "The only attention they get all day is from a bunch of crazy mental patients. They'd rather it be me than some demented addict nudist. Nurses literally spend all day cleaning up shit. Sometimes the orderlies help, but they've got to clean bedpans and bathe old guys…it's not a very glamorous job."

Quinn says, "Hmm."

The bed creaks and I make out Pyre tiptoeing across the room. Quinn's back is still turned. I clamp my mouth shut, putting my hand over my mask so I wouldn't be tempted to make a sound. I hear the tap tapping of Pyre's bare feet on the tile, and then she jumps. She's suspending in the air over Quinn's bed for a moment, then she belly flops down onto Quinn's relaxed form.

"OW!" Quinn says, but is quickly cut off as Pyre claps a hand over her mouth.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to rape you," Pyre whispers. "I just wanted to do that. My other roommate hated it." Then she jumps off of her and walks past me back to her own bed. I snort.

"Why didn't you warn me, Anathema?" Quinn mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.

"It wasn't my problem. Shut up and go to sleep. I don't want to listen to you anymore."

So she relaxes again. But a half hour later, as I'm fading in and out of sleep, she speaks again. I open my eyes irritably.

"What?"

"I said…I think the Corner-Man is real."

"I just named him that to make fun of you."

"I know you did. But as soon as you said it, I think it became his name. And I think it made him real." She shivers under the sheets and turns over. "He's not here now, though."

"So why does it matter?" I drone, wishing she'd shut up so I don't have to sit through the entire night.

"Because I'm scared. What if he comes back?"

"Then I guess you'll just get killed," I say, shrugging. I don't mention the fact that he's a figment of her sickness riddled imagination.

* * *

**A/N: Yay. Quinn's so crazy. I like her.**

**Thanks for reading, (feel free to) review or Pyre will get you.**


	8. Speak of the Devil

**A/N: I'm a day late when I promised I ****wouldn't be. Feel free to hit me. I've been working on ROYGBIV, which, I believe you might like.**

* * *

_You built me up with your wishing hell  
I didn't have to sell you  
You threw your money in the pissing well  
You do just what they tell you  
Repent, that's what I'm talking about  
I shed the skin to feed the fake  
Repent, that's what I'm talking about  
Whose mistake am I anyway?  
Cut the head off  
Grows back hard  
I am the hydra  
Now you'll see your star  
Prick your finger it is done  
The moon has now eclipsed the sun  
The angel has spread its wings  
The time has come for bitter things_

_Marilyn Manson – Antichrist Superstar_

* * *

Chapter Eight: Speak of the Devil

* * *

**25 Days Left**

It's been a month since Quinn was released from the Red Ward. In the morning, I still greet her with my regrets that she hadn't died in her sleep, and she responds in kind.

Quinn sits up and pulls on clothes, and I stand near the doorway, waiting for her. She scurries out before Pyre wakes up and gets her paws on her.

"Hey, guys," she says as she sits down at the table beside Aidan. Thompson's eyes dart to her left hand but he nods an acknowledgement. She presses her lips together. "I don't think I'm in any danger of being controlled by an alien, you know."

"You could be, at any second," Thompson says. "You're not free unless you remove the Mark."

"Is there any way to do that without cutting my hand off? Or scraping all of my skin off?"

"No."

"Oh."

Thompson spoons soggy cereal into his mouth. Quinn just taps the side of her plastic bowl. Aidan has ripped the entire top off of a carton of milk and is dunking his hand in it. I give him his space.

"I've been here for a month and the only thing you've ever talked to me about is aliens," Quinn says, breaking the silence.

"That's all that matters," Thompson says. "It's only a matter of time until they make their move, and you will be my enemy. I promise to kill you mercifully."

"If it comes to that, just chop off my hand," she suggests. His green eyes brighten.

"I guess that would work. Even if you were already under their control, ridding you of the Mark should clear your mind." He actually smiles. Quinn looks surprised for a moment, then smiles too. She looks down at her hands, then reaches out with her right one. He bristles for a moment, but allows her to rest her hand on his own while her left arm stays pasted to her side.

"Aww, this is touching," I mock, peeved at being forgotten. Quinn is too busy making goo-goo eyes at Probe-Boy. I don't understand those creatures. What is the point of needing another person to complete you? If they needed something like that to be happy, why couldn't they be born conjoined with their soulmate? But another example of the painfully stupid humans.

I glance at Aidan. It's obvious he was watching and absorbing this whole exchange, but he hadn't so much as moved. I decide to scoot closer to him, despite the fact that he's still fishing in the milk carton.

* * *

When they sit down to their morning therapy session with Jakes, Quinn and Thompson don't seem as buddy-buddy, but they still choose seats by each other. I guess there is some comfort in company, especially when you're both crazy. Pyre hasn't shown up, but Chloe is here.

"Where's Pyre?" Quinn asks.

"She has a visit from her brother," Chloe says. "They got permission to go out for breakfast."

"Indeed," Jakes says. I wonder if he smiles that smile when he's on the toilet. "She won't be joining us for this session."

I take my usual seat on the ceiling and cross my legs. Quinn's eyes flick up to me, and evidently, Jakes notices.

"Quinn? Would you care to tell us about your experience in the Red Ward? Perhaps you've gained some kind of perspective since returning." It's been month since she came back – I'm impressed that the nurses kept him at bay for even that long.

"No."

"Pyre isn't here to save you this time," I observe. She looks up idly, as in thought, but I see her shoot me a nasty look. She slumps down in her seat.

"Although, I did see someone die right in front of my face. That was pretty monumental."

"Have you had any more trouble from these monsters you see?"

The smile is still there.

I believe there's a law that forbids me from killing a human with any other means than with a Death Note. The punishment for that would definitely kill me... instead of just banishing me to the Human World for another year. So I restrain myself.

"What do you mean by trouble?" she mumbles.

"Do you still see them? Do they still influence your thoughts in a negative way?"

"You know, I don't know why I see them. I think you should be able to see them too, because it's not my job to warn you if one is going to hurt you." She smirks and crosses her ankles. I wince.

"If we end up in the Red Ward again because you're being a brat, then..." I trail off, because of course, by now, she knows that I can't kill her otherwise I already would have.

"I think we need to address this part of you that wants to see people hurt by these monsters," the doctor says, leaning forward with his patronizing smile.

"I think you need to shut up. One of these days, you're going to go crazy because there's a monster inside of you. There will be no redemption. You'll destroy yourself trying to get it out," Quinn spits. She stands up and stalks out of the room. "Speak of the devil and he shall come!" she calls from the hallway. I sigh and follow.

She stomps up to the nurse's station and Anna looks up.

"I want to meet the doctor who put me in here as an involuntary patient," she snaps. "I should've done this a month ago. I can't stay here."

Anna looks flustered.

"Of course. You could set up an appointment with him…"

"I need to talk to him _now._"

"And here I am," says a voice behind us. I turn around and see a short, neat little guy in a white coat. He looks very doctor-y. His name reads _Charles Michaelis. _

"I'm Dr. Michaelis," he says affably, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He jumps forward and shakes Quinn's hand even though she didn't offer it to him. I snicker.

"I've been here months," Quinn says, looking confused. "How have I never met you before when you've been pulling the strings and telling me what medicine to take?"

"Sorry," Dr. Michaelis says. "I mostly confer with your mother about your affairs, and she instructed me not to directly confront you. She was worried about you getting angry and hurting yourself further. However, it was technically within your rights to know and meet me."

Quinn's eyes darken.

"Don't talk to me about her. She's ignored me this entire time. She thinks I'm nuts."

"Well, medically speaking, you are nuts," I pipe up. She follows Dr. Michaelis over to a sofa and sits down. They both have to maneuver a bit so that they can face each other without getting near the stain on the cushion.

"I want to get out of here," Quinn says flatly, once they're settled. "I'm not crazy. I don't need to be here."

"The reason you are here is because I disagree," Dr. Michaelis says. He speaks over Quinn as she starts to protest. "However, it is your right that you may appeal to become a voluntary patient and eventually leave here."

"Why wasn't I told this before?" Quinn rages.

"You'd need a representative to defend you. And your mother wasn't willing to offer one to you, for reasons of her own. But, technically, you can defend yourself."

"I want to do that," she says immediately.

"Hey, guess what, Quinn," I say. "You're the only person on the planet who doesn't think you're insane. Good luck with your appeal."

"What do I have to do?" Quinn asks, ignoring me.

"I can give you an appeal form to fill out."

"I liked it better when your doctors were jerks," I mutter to myself. I almost got my hopes up. Quinn had a possibility to get out of the hospital? Maybe she would get hit by a truck somewhere in the Human World. But no. She was crazy, and there's no way she'd be let out into the world. No trucks.

* * *

"Here's an idea," I say as Quinn is filling out the form on the edge of the nurse's desk. "How about you forfeit ownership of the Death Note and then you'll go back to normal by yourself? You won't need to make an appeal."

"No," she whispers out of the side of her mouth.

"Why not? It's not like you even need the Death Note. The only thing it's done is get you locked up." I float backwards a few inches and roll in midair slowly. She clenches her jaw as she watches out of the corner of her eye.

"Would you stop that? It's distracting."

"Don't deny an all powerful God of Death his pleasures, maggot."

Quinn finishes the appeal form and hands it to a nurse, who slips it into an envelope and sets it to the side. She's walking back to the cafeteria for lunch when the doors slide open and Pyre walks through, along with a young man who looks exactly like her. He's obviously her brother, even before I look up at his name.

"Honey-bunny!" Pyre squeals and charges Quinn. Quinn has apparently wised up to this maneuver in her time here, and sidesteps her at the last moment. Pyre hooks right and comes back around and slams into her from the opposite side. The man she came in with has an amused smile on his face. "This is my brother, Andrew."

"Hey," Quinn grunts as she struggles not to fall over. I watch eagerly as she teeters, hoping she might hit her head on the table and die, but Pyre has her arm hooked through Quinn's and drags her upright. Damn. I got my hopes up again, causing me to tunnel vision in eagerness – Quinn didn't have any remote possibility of dying. God Eyes these days.

"Hello," Andrew greets her. He doesn't think the eccentric situation is unusual. "You must be Quinn."

"You will refer to her as Honey-bunny, or I'll rip out your spine and make you use it as dental floss," Pyre says severely to him. He just smiles easily and shoves his hands in his pockets, looking relaxed. I envy him. He gets to walk out of this place.

But he's still a scrawny short-lived human, so I guess I win overall.

"I've heard a lot about you," he says to Quinn.

"I'll bet," I whisper to Quinn.

Quinn just laughs goodnaturedly at both of us. I assume it was supposed to be goodnatured. Ever since she got back from the Red Ward there's been a weird little demented hitch in it. I knew she was going insane.

Pyre looks between them for a moment, then rolls her head.

"You guys are lame. Okay lunchtime!" and starts dragging Quinn in that direction. Quinn trips over her own feet, unable to walk backwards and just resorts to sliding along the ground behind her.

"You're a klutz," I observe. I look back to see Andrew nodding at a nurse and walking out the doors.

* * *

"Appeal?" Pyre shrieks. I wince and dig out a maggot that ran into my ear for cover. "You're leaving?"

"Not yet," Quinn assures her. "But I sent off the form and I'm going to have a hearing."

Pyre slumps down in her seat with a pout on her face.

"Who's your defense? Your second opinion?" Chloe asks. Quinn goes red and I smirk.

"Well…" she says, with a sudden interest in her nails. "I was just going to defend myself."

"Good luck with that," Chloe says wisely and I point at her.

"See? I was right," I say.

Pyre perks up noticeably at this. It's evident to everyone but Quinn that an appeal won't do her any good. Quinn looks angry at their lack of faith in her and looks at Thompson significantly. He raises his head meekly when he realizes she's looking for some kind of confirmation from him.

"If you're let out of the hospital and get controlled by aliens, it'll take longer for me to find you. By then it might be too late to save you just by getting rid of your Mark and I'll just have to kill you," he says in a monotone. Quinn's eye twitches and she scoots over to sit by Aidan, the only one at the table who can't say a word against her.

"Quinn?"

Quinn jumps as Dr. Michaelis appears at her side.

"At your hearing, there will be a psychiatrist, lawyer, and community member present. I'll be the psychiatrist, and your mother has agreed to present herself as a community member."

"I thought I don't have a lawyer?" Quinn asks.

"You don't. Er," he pauses. "Your mother will be hiring a lawyer for your opposition."

"My opposition," Quinn says slowly. "You mean…she's going to be against me?"

Dr. Michaelis nods, but he looks uncomfortable, like he sincerely feels sorry for the fact that she has a less-than-loyal mother.

"Oh," Quinn says blankly. "Okay."

He looks like he's going to say something more, but he just gives an awkward bow-thing and nods at the other patients present at the table before walking away.

"Mommy thinks you're crazy," I simper at Quinn.

Quinn stands up suddenly, giving everyone a glare, then walking off. She dumps her tray and then leaves. I sigh and flick a maggot at Pyre's face. It glances off her cheek and she freaks out, clawing at her face until an orderly rushes over to restrain her so she doesn't rip her flesh off. I wait until she's released (wouldn't want to miss that kind of a show) to follow Quinn.

* * *

I find her in her room with the door open.

"Took you long enough," she snaps irritably. "Get a page from the Death Note. I'm going to kill that bastard."

"What bastard?" I say with interest, even though I've seen his lifespan.

"Dr. Jakes. It's his entire fault. He's probably been telling Dr. Michaelis that I'm crazy and shouldn't be allowed to leave."

"Oookay?" But in truth, I am mentally doing the mambo. I'm glad to finally have some entertainment, and I can't wait to see that guy dead. So I fly through the hospital speedily and grab the notebook.

"Here, stupid." I toss it to her and it lands at the foot of her bed. She catches the pen, then leans forward and flips the notebook open. I watch, feeling a dark satisfaction as she scribbles Jakes' name in it. Below it, she writes the time of death to be in the next ten minutes.

"Put it back," she commands, throwing it to me.

"How about a please?" I mutter, and shove it into a wall, opting to keep it in the more permanent room so I don't have to keep flying through the hospital. She walks out the door, and I follow. She almost bumps into a nurse in the hallway. Quinn smiles brightly at her and says she's feeling a bit better. The nurse directs her back recreation lobby, but then the she walks back into Quinn's room, looking suspicious. Oh well. She won't find anything. It's just her job.

"Did you write any special details about his death?" I ask her.

"You'll see," she says. She takes a seat on the sofa and crosses her legs. I stand there.

After a few minutes, Pyre and the rest of the patients walk in from lunch. Quinn smiles at them to show that they're forgiven for opposing her at lunch. Pyre sits on the couch next to her and drapes herself over Quinn's knees.

"It's been ten minutes," I say to Quinn. "What's going to happen?" Quinn nods slightly at the doorway, where Jakes has just appeared. He crosses over to the nurse's desk and leans his elbows on it to converse with them. Quinn turns around and peeks over the back of the sofa to watch, a smile forming on her face.

Jakes turns away from the nurse's desk and looks at the group on the sofas appraisingly. The hateful smile peels his lips but he stops abruptly and puts a hand on his chest. Quinn's eyes have narrowed while her smile widens.

Jakes coughs and tries to massage the pain he feels in his chest away. He gags, then…

"Help!" The nurses look up at him. "There's something in me!" he cries. His shoulders hunch and his eyes look to Quinn. Hers are shining brightly, and I think I see a fleck of red in them before she blinks. Pyre sits up, looking surprised.

"Ooh, I see," I say, nodding. "Well played."

"What is it?" Anna cries, rushing around to his front. She puts her hands on his shoulders. Orderlies rush over. He's gasping and sputtering.

"There's a monster inside of me!" he yells, and grabs Anna's wrists with a desperate fire in his eyes. She looks horrified and tries to get away from his grip. "It hurts, it hurts, it HURTS!" Jakes falls to the ground in convulsions. He rips the collar of his shirt down and scratches at his chest, leaving long red welts. Anna manages to drag herself away; she backs up a few feet. Pyre jumps off the couch and rushes to her side, steadying her. She shudders and pulls Anna back farther, so she can't see the scene unfold.

Jakes is tearing at his chest, arms, neck – vivid red blood on his fingertips, under his nails. I watch as he destroys himself. A few moments later, there's a sickening sound and he seizes up. All that remains is now a raw slab of meat on the ground, staining the white tile and the crisp uniforms of the orderlies.

I watch as Jakes' counter ticks rapidly down to zero and then…

It blinks out.

I look back at Quinn to see if she's going to have another meltdown. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Opens them again. Her gaze is steady and triumphant as she stares at the doctor's corpse.

"Speak of the Devil, and He shall come," she whispers.

* * *

**A/N: Er. Yeah. That's the end of that chapter...stay tuned. I do recommend you check out ROYGBIV.**

**Feel free to review.  
**


	9. Downward Spiral

**A/N: Shit. I'm late again. Oh well. Is there anybody even out there? xD Nah, I know. People hate OC AUs...**

* * *

_I never realized I was spread too thin  
Till it was too late  
And I was empty within  
Hungry  
Feeding on chaos  
And living in sin  
Downward spiral where do I begin_

_Papa Roach – Last Resort_

* * *

Chapter Nine: Downward Spiral

* * *

**18 Days Left**

Quinn is lounging over her chair, looking unconcerned and smug. The elation of killing Jakes hadn't quite worn out for her. I was happy to see him dead, sure, but I see people I hate die all the time. It's not that huge of a deal. They're gone. I have an eternity to play it over in my mind, so why would I think about nothing else for a solid week? It's a waste of time.

We were waiting for her hearing to start - it had been a week of course, and Dr. Michaelis had assured Quinn that was incredibly quick for a response. Quinn was still a little brat about it.

Her hearing consisted of a lot of gibberish I was too lazy to pay attention to. One thing I did understand was that Quinn was denied a community treatment order, which meant she couldn't continue any kind of treatment outside of the hospital. And her status as an involuntary patient was not repealed. She spent the last part of the hearing glaring daggers at her mother, who was dabbing at her already red eyes and avoiding Quinn. She and her lawyer had stood up and avidly opposed Quinn. Dr. Michaelis thanked the board humbly, and everyone filed out of the conference room.

Quinn stalks out of the room, and I float along beside her, amused. Quinn's mother catches up to her and gets her by the shoulder.

"Quinn, I'm sorr-," she starts but Quinn whirls around to look at her, fire burning in her eyes.

"Don't talk to me!" she spits, looking deranged. "You're not my mother. Don't ever speak to me again. I don't want you to visit me in this _prison_. Because that's what I am now. _A prisoner."_

Quinn walks away again, and I have the incredible urge to snicker. I don't though. I'm stronger than her, and immortal…but at that moment, I don't doubt that Quinn would find a way to kill me if I did. I content myself by doing backwards somersaults through the air to keep up with her. As I turn around and around, I read the numbers above Quinn's mothers' head. With my motion, they are jumbled streaks, but I'm able to see it.

Quinn is quite angry. And her mother doesn't have much longer to live.

* * *

Anna smiles at Quinn as she returns to the main part of the ward, but it quickly drops off her face when she considers the outcome of Quinn's hearing. Quinn, though, shows no sign of the anger she just demonstrated. She's extremely calm, and even manages to smile back at Anna quietly.

Her behavior was probably the reason Anna allowed her to walk back to her room.

The second she turns the corner into her room, her angry demeanor returns. I give her some space for obvious reasons, but she doesn't seem to want to throw any punches at me. Instead, she takes handfuls of her hair and walks in rapid circles, like a caged animal. Her eyeballs look like they were going to pop out of their sockets. Her lips turn white as she clenches her teeth. Then she does something even I didn't expect. She walks over to where I had last hidden the Death Note in the wall.

Then she punches the wall.

_Punches it._

Her fist goes right through the plaster, revealing the black notebook. The pen that was tucked in the spine drops out of it, falling down the inside length of the wall, but Quinn doesn't look concerned about that. She rips it out of its hiding place and flips it open. Since she has no pen, she takes the fingernail of her index finger and chomps her teeth around the end and jerks her head. With a horrible sound, the entire nail pulls away from her finger. A shocking amount of blood wells up instantly, but she puts her raw finger to the page and doesn't even cringe as she scribbles out her mother's name.

I then gape as Quinn chokes out a sob and sinks to the floor. Her fingers are knotted in her hair, staining the pale gold red. The Death Note lies forgotten on the ground. Her sobs are getting progressively louder, so I snatch the Death Note and drift over to the far wall and shove it through. Quinn is making unattractive crying sounds. A few seconds later, they escalate into the ear shattering shrieks that she made when she killed Cathy.

Looks like another month in seclusion.

This is going to be so boring.

And somewhere in the building – or perhaps the parking lot by now? – Quinn's mother's lifespan blinks out.

* * *

After a long afternoon of handstands to entertain myself, I finally relax and drift up into the center of the room. Quinn – surprise, surprise – is strapped down to a bed again. Asleep from a tranquilizer. Every time I lost my balance and fell out of my handstand (I blamed her because she ruins everything), I'd walk over to her and extract a maggot from my head and pinch it between two fingers so it wouldn't disintegrate, and then send the little worm-like thing a mental apology for being subjected to this torture. But Quinn deserved it. I'd lean down over her sleeping form and draw the maggot across various parts of her face – mostly her eyelids and lips.

Even though I'm finished with my handstands, I still look down at her from my floating-place and feel resentment flare up within me again. I grab another maggot and am about to do it again when I hear a hoarse voice from behind me.

"Anathema."

I jump and drop the maggot. It hits her lips and disintegrates. I turn towards the voice.

"Ryuk!" I say.

"Hi, Anathema," he chuckles, taking a bite of an apple he probably stole from somewhere. He chews it with his mouth open and I cringe. It's bad enough that he's always grinning. It looks like he has to put a great deal of effort into unfreezing his expression long enough to eat. "Long time no see. What has the Human World done to you? You freaked out pretty bad."

"I'm punishing this human," I defend myself.

"Really?" he laughs. "Looks like she's the one who has succeeded in screwing you over pretty badly."

"That's why I'm punishing it," I snap.

"That's petty," he says through a mouthful of apple. He finishes it off with a gulp, core and all. I shudder inwardly. Human food. Foul. He drifts upward slightly with his feet together, reclining.

"What do you want?" I growl. "I'm busy serving out my punishment. Which, by the way, was completely unwarranted. I don't steal Death Notes. Those lot are just angry that I always beat them."

"Yeah, I know," he says. "And I just came to check up on you. You're something of entertainment for the other Gods right about now. There's never been less gambling going on. We're all just watching you squirm. And what about that girl? Gone soft?"

I narrow my eyes at him. Maggots swarm angrily over my scalp.

"Do you have a point?"

"Nope. Just wanted to let you know. Time is running short, though. Her," he nods at Quinn,"end is coming soon. We're placing bets on whether or not you'll lose your Death Note again." He grins grotesquely at me. I resolve to ignore him pointedly. He notices instantly and laughs again. "Well, 'bye now."

He flies upward through the ceiling and is gone.

I hear stirring from behind me.

"Anathema?" comes from a quiet voice. I close my eyes briefly. It's just one thing after another in this place. I take a deep breath, composing myself. It's all about how I do this, now that I know I'm being watched. Gone soft? Idiots.

"What?" I roar, turning towards her. She doesn't even flinch as my burning red eyes are leveled on her.

"Who was that?" she asks.

"Er..huh?" I say, losing it completely. There was no way she could've seen Ryuk. "Who?"

"I don't know," she says faintly. "I just thought I saw someone in the room. A shape. It looked like one of the monsters. Only it was in the center of my vision instead of the corners."

I open and close my mouth several times before turning away, remembering the act. I'm still angry at being ridiculed by practically every God of Death in existence. Except for perhaps Armonia Justin Beyondormason, because he doesn't associate himself with the infantile ways of the younger Gods. And he's conceited. Coldly intelligent. No – I take that back. He doesn't need anyone else telling him he is intelligent. He's…old. And knowledgeable.

I am not going soft.

I ignore her even though she continues to call out to me. I can't help but notice that our roles have swapped significantly. I'm the one acting childish and confused (I am not going soft). She's the one disregarding morals and human life. And, incidentally, she's the one about to hit rock bottom. There's no hint of that in her lifespan – her life ends when it ends. But I know she's going to lose it. But it's going to have to happen soon, because, like what Ryuk said, and what I've known for months now…her time is almost up.

* * *

**0 Days Left**

Quinn doesn't talk anymore. At least, not to me. I thought that would be pleasant, because I despise having to make conversation with someone as ridiculously moronic as her. But when you're living in confinement, even the smallest interaction is a respite from the dull existence. She's being unbelievably bipolar. Worse than Pyre, in fact. No doubt she'll go right back to normal as soon as we get out of here. She's just selfish that way.

And again, when a nurse comes to collect her from her seclusion, I am surprised. Quinn had been remarkably unresponsive for most of the time here, but obviously they think it is safe to move her back to the Yellow Ward. She's escorted out, back to the Yellow Ward, and I steel myself for Pyre's antics.

She doesn't disappoint. The moment Quinn walks into the recreation lobby, Pyre runs at her and loops an arm around her waist, all but carrying her to the arrangement of furniture at the center.

"Finally! You're back!" Pyre yells. "I kept telling them! Want to go out with me? Provided the _nurses_," she cups a hand around her mouth and leans closer, "aren't too jealous."

Quinn doesn't answer, shrugging out of Pyre's grip and plopping down on the sofa. Pyre looks surprised for a moment, then leans forward and hugs Chloe's shoulders over the back of the sofa.

"Fine. Chloe will go out me, won't you Chloe?"

Chloe yawns and nods halfheartedly. Pyre squeaks and drags her out of her seat. Chloe resists for a moment, and then allows Pyre to drag her away. After a glance towards the nurse's station, they vanish around the corner.

I glance at Quinn. She doesn't think it's unusual at all. I float upwards, through the ceiling, so I don't draw attention the fact that I'm interested by their leave. Then I walk in the direction they were heading and drop through the floor, so that I'm around the corner.

They're standing at the end of the hallway. Pyre is whispering feverishly to Chloe, who's shaking her head and muttering. I get closer to them quietly, even though they can't see or hear me, until I'm able to make out their conversation.

"Nothing unusual at all?" Pyre asks. "You were there."

"Not really," Chloe shrugs. "He was just attacking her about her monsters. You know, acting like he acts. Being a jerk."

"Did she seem disturbed by it?" Pyre says.

"She stormed out, so I guess so," Chloe responds.

A pause.

"Did she say anything?"

"She said something about him destroying himself because he'll be attacked by a monster from the inside," Chloe says. "Then she yelled from the hallway… 'Speak of the devil and he shall come!'" So they were talking about Jakes, right before he died. What was with that? Quinn had been a little headstrong with her threat, and again with the circumstances of his death, but that wasn't enough to put together.

"And you don't think that's odd?" Pyre scoffs. "The guy was just killed. Cathy was killed. She was there for both of them."

"Coincidence?" Chloe asks. She scowls at the look on Pyre's face. "What are you suggesting? That she makes people have heart attacks and rip their own flesh off? Come on."

"Everyone she has a problem with dies," Pyre hisses. "Aren't you just a little suspicious?"

"No," Chloe says. "I'm glad I'm on her good side."

"This is serious!" Pyre exclaims. "Why would he be yelling about a monster inside him as he hurt himself? That's just too weird."

"Maybe he was just thinking about what Quinn had said earlier. Maybe he was so shocked he believed it for a moment."

"Stop playing the Devil's Advocate!" Pyre snaps. "There is a _bloodstain_ on the floor from a week ago. You were there. Thompson and Aidan were there. I was there, Quinn was there. Anna was there. We all watched someone die. Can't you at least humor me?"

"Don't get yourself worked up," Chloe says, holding her hands up defensively. "I'm sorry. You're right, it's weird. But no one has the power to kill people like that. It's just impossible."

I chuckle quietly. Humans would never dream of a God of Death existing. They've got their gods, sure. But they believe that they work in strange ways, with no direct contact with their subjects. I guess being worshiped makes you lazy. Or maybe you just vanish into nothingness. Gods of Death are not worshiped, and here we are.

Okay. Gods of Death are lazy. But we still do things. Sort of. We don't ignore the humans, like their own gods. That's what matters. If you keep an open mind, you can find proof of our existence.

"And what about her mom?" Pyre presses. "Right after she lost her trial, her mom died in the parking lot."

"Her mom had a heart attack. It was stress."

"Cathy had a heart attack too!"

"If it was really Quinn who did it, like you say, then why didn't her doctor die too? He had just as much of a hand in her losing her trial as her mom."

Pyre stiffens and looks at where I am. She can't see me of course, but I still back up a bit. I was too close anyway – a mere foot from their stupid human faces.

"What?" Chloe says, following her gaze.

"Nothing," Pyre says, shaking her head. She goes back to looking threatening. "I don't know about her doctor. It doesn't make any sense. I'll figure it out. Let's go."

They turn and walk back towards the recreation lobby.

"So what are you going to do?" Chloe asks. Pyre keeps walking, and it's a moment before she answers.

"I don't know yet."

* * *

I resolve not to tell Quinn. The rotten little monkey-face can figure it out herself. Or not. She's bothering me with her high and mighty attitude.

I am intrigued by Pyre's suspicions though. I've seen Quinn's lifespan every day for months – perhaps Pyre has something to do with it. That'd be hilarious. Pyre murders Quinn or something because she thinks Quinn has been killing people. What an embarrassing way to die. But Quinn doesn't deserve anything dignified.

I can't help but feel respect for Pyre though. She managed to figure out that it was actually Quinn. She's no genius, and she got most of her information secondhand. The nurses knew Quinn was there when Cathy Dawe was killed – Pyre probably heard about it. All she had known was that Quinn had been forced to take medication. And again when she hadn't seen Quinn threatening Jakes. His death could have been taken in any context. It looked like he had just gone insane. But she had thought to question Chloe about it. She wasn't at the hearing either. She didn't know Quinn's relationship with Dr. Michaelis, so that would explain her confusion as to why he wasn't dead.

Pyre and Chloe return and sit down on the couch again. Chloe immediately absorbs herself in her nails, like always. I wonder briefly why she does that, but then I decide I don't really care. My own nails are claw-like and made out of stone. Hers are brittle and weak, so it must be some kind of maintenance that only she bothers with.

Quinn stands up and stretches. Pyre glances at her but Quinn doesn't notice. I sigh and boost myself into an upwards position to follow her.

She walks down the hallway and into a bathroom. I cringe and step inside as well. She doesn't go into a stall. Instead, she leans against the wall and gives me a look that seems blank, but her eyebrows slant darkly and her eyes are hard and flat.

"Pyre knows it's me."

"And how did you come to that conclusion?" I say uninterestedly, but I am actually curious.

"Don't be an idiot, Anathema," she growls. "I followed them, just like you did. I can't believe that you weren't going to tell me. I thought you said you'd stay by my side."

"I only said that because I thought that you were pitiful," I say. "I thought that you were sickly and frail and contention with you was unjustified. Then you surprised me and I changed my mind."

"So you're a liar!" she spits.

"I am a God of Death," I sigh wearily. "Although, _you're_ quickly becoming a creature all your own. You killed that many people for such selfish reasons." I tut. "I'm disappointed in you. I thought children were supposed to be innocent. Although, I do have to say…I think your continued use of the notebook is hastening your madness. I'm surprised you haven't noticed yourself. I think you should just relinquish ownership of it before Pyre gets proof and finds a way to expose you."

"Mind your own business!" she yells, then leans forward and looks through the doorway to make sure no one heard. After a few moments, she settles back against the wall and crosses her arms. "You're the one being selfish. You just want to get back to where you came from with no regards for anyone you affected here. You may as well have ruined my life by coming here with that stupid Death Note!"

"I'm being selfish?" I say in disbelief. "You're just an insignificant little wretch who can't even control her own mind! You're the one who stole my Death Note! If you hadn't been so stupid, neither of us would be in this situation!"

"_What situation_?!" she screams derisively. She uncrosses her arms and has her fists clenched against her sides. "As soon as I get rid of Pyre, there won't be a situation! I'll convince Dr. Michaelis that I should be able to leave! Now that my mother and Jakes are gone, there will be no one to oppose me!"

"You're planning to kill Pyre?" I yell. "Why? Because she's the only one besides me who's smart enough to realize that there's something wrong with you?"

"What's it to you? I can kill anyone I want! That's why I kept the Death Note! So no one will treat me like a basket case ever again!"

"You are a basket case!" I shout. Her neck is bulging and her eyes seem bottomless. Whatever thin thread of tolerance there had been between us had snapped. She was shouting about leaving the hospital, but there was no way I could tell her she wasn't going to make it that long. "And I won't let you kill Pyre! I'll find some way to murder you before you manage it!"

"Why do you care!? You hate everything! You hate Pyre, and you hate Chloe and Aidan and Thompson and Anna and everyone!"

"No," I snap. "I hate _you ._You're the reason I'm stuck here, not them! I thought this entire world would be disgusting and evil! But it's too soon for me to speak of everything. I haven't seen everything! But I do know that I don't hate the people here. I refuse to let you destroy the only thing in either world that I've ever found appealing!"

"Appealing?" she screeches. "What are you, in love with her? Don't even try that! You're a God of Death, remember? You're not capable of feeling anything like that! And I wasn't even going to kill her, but now I think I will! I refuse to let _you_ destroy the only chance I've ever had to make things happen _my way!" _She wheels around and storms out of the bathroom into the hallway. I stomp out after her, not even bothering to float. My mind is in too much turmoil.

"You try it!" I shout after her. "If you even dare to consider it, I will kill you!"

* * *

**A/N: Fa la la la la la la la laaaa. Yeah. Anathema is in lluuuurrve.** **Next updates are iffy since I've stopped actually writing Anathema somewhere near the tail end...hm. Sorry.**


	10. Library

**A/N: Hello, guys. As you can tell I am a little bit depressed about this story and not very eager to post. Sorry if it's an inconvenience. This is the actual last chapter I have completely written at the moment, so...updates will be even scarcer. Sorry. I don't see myself writing it anytime soon. **

* * *

_Burning in red, in red, in red_

_Erasing everything, everything_

_And unfulfilled illusion begins to move_

_Strongly, strongly_

_Overcoming, overcoming, overcoming the fleeting night_

_And I certainly can't escape, even if I drown in my sins_

ON/OFF – Futatsu no Kodou to Akai Tsumi

* * *

Chapter Ten – Library

* * *

I should have followed Quinn out of the bathroom to make sure she wasn't going to kill Pyre, but she doesn't know her full name. I've seen Pyre's lifespan, and she outlives Quinn. But that's not to say that Quinn won't write her name down for a later time. Instead, I stand in the hallway and wonder what had come over me. What inclination I had to save Pyre from death. Was Quinn right in her scornful assumption? Do I love her? She'd never even spoken to me before, but I am sure that my threat had been genuine. If Quinn tries to kill Pyre, I'll do anything to prevent it. Even if what I had heard about Gelus had been correct.

I put a hand up to my face, over my eye, pushing my hair away. Maggots squeak irritably but they seem to have sensed my disquiet.

I remember talking to Rem, shortly before she left for the _(beautiful)_ Human World. She was a relatively mellow God. She wasn't horrifyingly ugly and I tolerated her even more than Ryuk. She had said that Gelus had died to save the life of a human. She said that if a God kills a human in order to lengthen their life, then the God would die. She said such a sacrifice was associated with love. Gelus had been in love with a human.

I myself had offered to save a human – did that mean I was in love? Some part of me had remembered the fate of Gelus, even as I threatened Quinn. So I had known what I was in for. And I'd still gone through with it. Is that enough to determine my feelings? I certainly respect her…she may be loud and obnoxious and overbearing, but it seem to have struck a chord within me. She was just odd enough to have intrigued me. I certainly haven't acted like I am in love with her. I just don't hate things as much as I normally would when I'm around her.

And what was it Ryuk had said..? "_And what about that girl? Gone soft?"_ What if he hadn't been referring to Quinn when he said that? Had he seen something in me that I hadn't even realized? The entire realm was watching – that's what he said. I'd become a joke. Did they all see it?

Intrigue or love _(beautiful)_…that wasn't the point. The point was that I had already told Quinn that I would do it. And I would. It doesn't matter what the reason is. The outcome is the same.

If I save Pyre, I'll die.

When I walk into the cafeteria, it certainly doesn't seem like Quinn had threatened to kill Pyre. Maybe that had been in another time. On another planet. In another world?

But no – the tired lines are present on both Quinn and Pyre's faces. Pyre is flicking her eyes to Quinn, who isn't looking at anyone. The rest of the table is behaving normally. Chloe isn't eating anything. Thompson is spearing peas as if they were aliens and he was training trident-throwing for when they invade. Aidan is pretending that a half of a bitten carrot is surfing on waves of amorphous mashed potatoes.

I cross the room and stop behind Pyre, hovering there protectively. I know Quinn sees, by the way her mouth twists in anger. I mimic her look of displeasure, and she just looks angrier. Pyre doesn't know the war she's in the middle of. Ignorance is bliss. I could take a page from the Death Note and she'd be able to see me. That's not against the rules. But it'd likely piss Quinn off and complicate my efforts to help Pyre. And something about that idea makes me anxious. I don't want her to be able to see me. I can imagine the feelings of a human who knew that a Death God was in love with them. It's similar to my previous feelings of being associated with a human.

Disgust.

She'd be disgusted by me.

And as I said before – I don't want the only thing I'd ever found _(beautiful)_ appealing to disappear from my life.

I don't leave her side the entire time the rest of the table eats obliviously.

After they finish, Pyre pulls Quinn to the side and says something I didn't expect.

"Hey, Quinn. I'm so bored. Want to go to the library with me? I still haven't managed to get my websites unblocked, but I've got some magazines hidden in the reference section. "

I'm impressed. Pyre can act. And if she suspected that Quinn wanted her dead, she'd still be convincing. I have good taste in humans. But what is she hoping to gain by this?

An odd look comes over Quinn's face, and I narrow my eyes as she accepts.

The library is enormous. There is staff present to chaperone patients, but it's easy for Pyre and Quinn to slip to the back without anyone insisting to follow them around. For once I wish the staff was more vigilant. It'd certainly help my efforts. It is odd to see Quinn following Pyre of her own free will, but since Pyre doesn't know Quinn heard her accusations, it would be less suspicious to act normally and drag her along. But since Quinn does know, such an action may have been all the provocation Quinn needed.

Quinn's sanity is teetering, so it is best to walk on eggshells.

Pyre stops suddenly, and Quinn bumps into her. I want to throttle her for not paying attention and being dumb enough to touch Pyre in front of me. The King of Death had forbade me to use my Death Note – I've already disobeyed him plenty, but I wonder if I could actually use it to write Quinn's name. I'd die immediately after in any case. If it didn't work, then my only option was to kill her with other means. And that was a crime punishable by the worst kind of death. I'd be destroyed into Nonexistence. Yes. I would have to kill her with something other than the Death Note, just in case it wouldn't work.

"This isn't the reference section," Quinn says flatly. Pyre is turned away from Quinn, and I see her features darken momentarily before she grins and faces her animatedly.

"I know! But there were too many people in the front of the library to risk it," she says. Her eyes turn to crescents to match her smile. The only sign of her anxiousness is her locked knee – there's a muscle twitching in her upper leg. Quinn doesn't notice. Pyre continues cheerily, "And the back of the library is so much more beautiful, don't you think? It's full of old books and newspapers," she throws her arms wide and spins in a circle, "and it'd go up in _a second_ if I were to drop a match. We'd both die." She stops spinning and beams challengingly at Quinn. Quinn's face is impassive, but she turns away, hunching her shoulders.

"Please," she whispers. Her voice sounds tearful. Angrily skeptical, I circle around to see her face. Her eyes are laughing maniacally, and the corners of her mouth are twisted into a cruel smirk. When she speaks again, she manages to sound just as pitiful. The triumph on her face doesn't waver. "Please don't…my…my mom. Please don't' talk of death…," she whimpers.

"_You crazy bitch_," I hiss, narrowing my eyes. Her own dart up to me, laughing silently with barely contained mirth. I look past her to see what Pyre is doing. She looks confused and hesitant, clenching her fists and breathing gently through her mouth.

Hot anger of Quinn's deception claws the inside of my chest, and I seize a fistful of the sickly human shell that contains the despicable pest. I lift her to eyelevel and her head slams into the shelf behind her. The smug look has disappeared, and her features are shocked.

"You sick, twisted freak," I spit, my voice rising. I am aware of Pyre gasping and stepping back a few feet, into a row of books, but she stops there. To her eyes, Quinn is seemingly dangling in midair and turning blue. Through my ire, I am coherent enough to reason what Pyre must be thinking, and I can't blame her for her reaction. I'm 'Mr. Phantom' to her. She only ever knows me defending Quinn, like the first day in the bathroom. That's probably where her fear from earlier was coming from – she thought I'd be on Quinn's side, and she had to worry about an unseen entity instead of just a scrawny blonde weirdo.

The thought that I was scary would've been pleasant several months ago, but now I just feel weary resignation.

"Anathema," Quinn sputters. One eye is scrunched shut in a grimace, and a thin trail of blood is coming from her lips. She must've bit herself when her head hit the shelf. I am somewhat proud of that. "Let go!"

"How about '_no_'," I growl as she transitions to purple. I tighten my grip, steeling myself for the consequences that will come with her death. My murder of her.

"…"

"…Anathema?" I glance down to see Pyre looking up to where she thinks my eyes are. I adjust myself automatically to accommodate her, even though she can't see me. I tune out Quinn's attempts to get air into her lungs and focus on Pyre's face, knowing full well I should pay attention before Quinn dies and I have to be killed in turn.

"You can hear me, right?" She smiles in a self depreciating way, like she's doubtful of herself and is speaking only to air. "…you probably should let her go. I don't know why you're doing that, but she's turning all shades of the rainbow."

She asked – no – she told me to stop. But she doesn't know the danger she's in when Quinn is alive. Wouldn't her opinion be different then? I'm puzzling out a way to communicate this to her when she continues.

"I assume you attacked her because she was lying about her mom. I know she killed her. But Quinn shouldn't die. I think it'd just make problems for the people she killed. Because suddenly she'd be alongside them in Death, or whatever afterlife there may be. Personally, I wouldn't be happy if I was dead and suddenly my murderer was beside me."

If she could hear me, I'd contradict her. As a Death Note owner, Quinn would go to Nothingness.

"I don't know if that's true, but _please_ let her go," she presses.

With one final, hasty deliberation, I do. Quinn drops to the ground. Too weak to catch herself, her legs buckle and her head thunks back into the bookshelf. If she wasn't already unconscious, she is now.

Pyre claps her hands over her mouth and nose. For a brief moment, I feel a flash of terror. Had something happened? What had I done? And then I see that she is fighting to smother her snorting laugh.

My jaw drops as she falls onto her back and pulls her legs up, rolling around laughing.

_(Beautiful)_

"Oh, my God!" she shouts, tears rolling down her face. "Did you hear the sound her head made? Thwonk! No – thumk! That's not it either…"

I stand in shock for a few moments as she attempts to replicate the sound of Quinn's skull hitting the shelf before she finally quiets and rolls onto her hands and knees. She looks up solemnly.

"Thank you, Anathema."

I'm unsure how to respond, or even feel. She's looking too far to the left. I twitch my shoulders in a shrug and grunt. She doesn't see of course.

She stands up and looks down at Quinn.

"I don't see any marks. I should go get a nurse. Stay here, okay?" She is addressing the books a few feet to my side and I snicker.

I listen as Pyre feeds the nurse some rag about Quinn's medication making her drowsy, and how she had just sort of collapsed against a bookshelf. The nurse takes Quinn to her room to lie down.

Pyre had to go out and spend the day with her brother, so I'm alone beside Quinn again. I throw a glance at the wall where the Death Note is hidden. I moved it after she killed her mother, and she was in no state to see where I had put it. If she wanted to kill Pyre, she'd have to punch the wall several times to find it. I am relieved at the small buffer of insurance I have in that regard.

Quinn finally wakes up in the early evening. That bookshelf must've been pretty solid. She sits up dazedly, looking at Pyre's empty side of the room. Her bandanna was on her bed, so she must've returned while we were both sleeping. Maybe she was out in the recreation lobby with the others.

I look the other way moodily as Quinn slides out from under the sheets. She crosses the room, so I watch covertly, wondering what she's doing. Quinn picks up the bandanna. It's folded intricately, leaving small, almost invisible little pockets. A few matches spill out. Quinn's face splits into an eerie sideways grin. It fades almost instantly into a small, sane smile that is equally malicious.

"Hey Anathema," she says. Her voice has that same demented hitch to it – it's more prominent now that it is sugar coated in fake sweetness. You know what it's capable of, but you can't believe that it'd actually do it. Like a rattlesnake that doesn't warn you when it's about to strike.

_You crazy bitch._

I ignore her pointedly. She smiles wider, looking like a poisonous toad, and walks past me. She raps her knuckles against the wall, listening carefully. She doesn't hear anything interesting, so she moves on. I feel hot coals settle in the pit of my stomach. She's looking for the Death Note. Is she able to find it like that? There's something horrifying about the way she confidently knocks against the wall, and leans in to listen. Like she knows that, with some inexplicably cold intelligence, she'll get to it eventually. Like it's assured.

Like it's inevitable.

She's a few feet shy of the Death Note's hiding place when she steps away from the wall and directs her smile towards me. Disgusted, I avoid looking at where the Death Note is. That's probably what she wants. She walks back to her bed and lies down, closing her eyes. Her smile reminds me of Jakes. Perhaps some part of his soul had latched onto hers after she'd killed him. But that thought is fleeting. I don't even think that's possible. Two people can have the same cold smile.

I glance up at her lifespan, then phase out of the room to look out of a window. It's beginning to turn to blackness outside. This is her last day. So it will happen in the next five hours.

According to Pyre's lifespan, she doesn't die for quite a long time. But several lifespans in this building…they all end on this day as well, right alongside Quinn. I know I can do nothing to help them. So I make my way to the recreation lobby, where Pyre is entertaining Chloe and Thompson with her story from the day. Aidan is slouched down on the couch. He doesn't seem to mind the stain. After Pyre's story ends, she walks off down the hallway, to the bathroom. Confident in her lifespan, I decide not to follow her.

I'm only there for a few minutes before I realize.

Not the Death Note.

Two nurses, Anna and Katherine, walk out from behind the nurse's station, looking confused. Chloe, Thompson and Aidan all stop what they are doing and look up, towards the ceiling.

Not the Death Note.

Fire.


	11. Everything

**A/N: Hello, everyone. Long time no see. I am very, very sorry for the delay on my part. I had sort of moved on from this fanfiction even though I had not finished. I only decided to finish it up earlier today. So I went and did that. Hooray. To any readers that started it when I regularly updated, I am glad that you continue to give me a chance. :) To anyone who waited, I hope this is able to make up for any injury you may have sustained in my absence. I'm not vain, I'm just very sorry. Thank you, thank you for returning. **

**To anyone else who is reading this, I'm glad you made it this far. :) I love everyone.**

* * *

_To your grave I spoke,_  
_Holding a red,_  
_Red rose._  
_Gust of freezing cold air,_  
_Whispers to me,_  
_That you are gone._

_Always asking the question,_  
_Why life is overrated._  
_But I never,_  
_Never expected that I'd,_  
_Underestimated my love for you._

_Always,_  
_Always just out of reach from my,_  
_Over frustrated,_  
_Shameful hands._  
_And I never,_  
_Never expected that I would ever,_  
_No never take for granted your precious time._

_Spent a lifetime of holding on,_  
_Just to let go._  
_I guess I'll spend another lifetime,_  
_Searching for a new hope._

_Broken Iris - A New Hope_

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Everything

* * *

Horrendous torrents of black smoke vomit their way out of the library doors. I rush towards them and immediately heave over a lungful of the stuff. I amend myself to become incorporeal and my chest is cleared.

The library is an inferno. I've only seen worse on my few, selective trips to Hell (although maybe that is because everything I've come to find beautiful in this part of my life was burning). Smoke rises to the ceiling like a monster, biting and pummeling itself as it fights to go upwards. Flames spit their way across the shelves, their progress of conflagration almost deafening. The raging heat in the air seems to reach me regardless of my substance.

Dodging the worse of it, I find my way to where Quinn had been knocked out.

"Hi," she says, devastatingly calm, for she is standing between two bookcases made of flame. Pyre's bandanna is clenched in her fist at her side. An unlit match drops from it and lands by her feet. It quivers for a moment, then catches fire.

I am in no mood to play her game.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

I can tell by the way she presses her lips together she had given up the game as well.

"Did you bring the Death Note?"

"Why didn't you kill her?" I counter. As soon as my curt words pass my lips, she smiles. It's a smug, laughing smile.

"I never planned to kill her. I just wanted to ruin her life. She ruined my life here. But the supreme medal, Anathema, goes to you. All of this is your fault."

"Mine?" I snort. "You stole _my_ -"

"NO, STOP IT! SHUT UP!" she screams over me. Surprised, I actually draw back. She continues, pointing an accusatory finger at me. "It's your fault. My life was fine until you showed up with the monsters and the new voices!"

Disgusted, I make to interject again, but she continues shouting, "IT'S. ALL. YOUR. FAULT." She seems to calm before continuing again. "So I'm going to kill you and destroy Pyre. That's what they're telling me to do now. Pyre's matches, Pyre's fire." She grins. "And your fault."

If Quinn frames Pyre for this fire, she'll be locked up for the rest of her life. My eyes go back to Quinn's lifespan - today, for sure, but will Pyre be dragged down with her?

"Who's telling you to do this?" I ask. She looks back at me. It's apprehensive, like she is sincerely calculating whether or not she should tell me for fear I make fun of her.

Finally, she says, "The voices. They've always been there. I try to ignore them, but everything they say is really rude and...annoying. They make me feel awful about myself. One of them always tells me to step in front of cars. Some others - I have names for all of them, but - they'd whisper as I walked down the school hallways. They'd tell me someone was giving me a dirty look, or laughing at me behind my back. I hated it. Always rude, no matter what I said back to them. But now they say if I burn the hospital, they'll forgive me for being stupid and useless and an idiot. They'll say nice things instead. But only if I burn the hospital." She stares glassily into a distance only she can see. After her hesitation, she appears to come to her senses. "Killing you and Pyre is for me, though."

My spirits fall, though I am not really surprised. For a brief moment, I had begun to allow myself to hope that maybe she was a saner person, a more reasonable person.

A person who was just a victim.

A person who could be reached.

A feeling I can not quite identify swells in my chest, just as the bookcase Quinn stands beside falls. It buckles inward and lands right on top of her with a shuddering groan.

Quinn does not even have time to scream.

I do not see her numbers blink out.

A new fire blooms upwards out of the bookcase and the smoke turns acrid. Before I can think to fade out, I am bit by the new flames, like Quinn has risen for one last attempt at vengeance. Even in death, she still aims to claw out the eyes of her supposed oppressors.

And maybe it is all my fault. If I had been more vigilant, she never would have gotten hold of the Death Note. She could have led a normal life. No one would have died.

I go, slowly and quietly, through the hospital to retrieve the Death Note from the wall.

I do not look at the fire.

I do not look at the smoke.

I can't help but see Anna feebly stirring under an inflamed, collapsed beam. Her chest is caved in. Aidan, who I can only guess was pushed out of the way by Anna, is taking rapid and shallow breaths - hyperventilating.

Light catches my eye. Two firemen holding flashlights have kicked in the door. They make it in time for Aidan.

I step through the wall and into the outside night.

It's far too clear and sensible for the world in its current state. The air is brisk, the light breeze pushing all the smoke away and leaving only piney air. The stars above are lucidly shining. They hint at a more beautiful truth than this. It's almost boastful in its perfection. How dare the night be so aloof when the world was ending?

The street is lined with emergency vehicles. Across it, the evacuated patients and staff are spread out over the hill. I am torn for a long moment, debating whether or not I should continue to impose on their lives. I cross the street and find my lunatics. They are all there, except for Quinn and Aidan. Chloe is pretending to listen to Thompson ("I told you. This is where they start. That Quinn-girl brought them") and my insides twist guiltily.

Away from the crowd, Pyre is sitting, yanking up tufts of grass and sprinkling them on her knees. She's staring at the burning hospital. Even though I can't talk to her, I take some comfort in sitting beside her.

"I'm sorry this happened," I say aloud. She's humming to herself and gives no indication she can hear me, but I continue anyway. "It was all a mistake. It's all my fault." I can't think of anything else to say. In the barest of emotion, this is what I mean to say. This is all I can say. I put a hand over my eye and try to massage away the pain in my head. She keeps humming.

I groan and drop backwards so I'm lying on the hill. This is a disaster.

"It's kind of pretty, isn't it?"

My eyes shoot open.

_What?_

Pyre looks back at me and raises her brow.

"But I guess that doesn't make you feel any better. Like, the thing that I find pretty is what you're apologizing for. Understandable."

I don't know how to reply. She holds up a ball of paper.

"I found this while we were being pushed out the doors. It was behind a bush. Don't really know why I picked it up. Though, I do remember seeing it when I went out for breakfast with my brother. Thought it was just a stupid wad of paper. But it's the only variable I recognize in the Equation. So what is it?"

"Duuuuuh?" I say.

She smiles and me and I _duuuuh_ harder. Then I remember what is going on.

"It's the reason Quinn is dead," I blurt. Her mouth drops open and she looks around like she hadn't realized that Quinn was not there.

"She's dead?"

I nod.

"I've known she would die today ever since I met her. But she tried to frame you for burning down the hospital. I'm not sure if she'll succeed." And I tell her the whole story while we watch the emergency vehicles work. They have little chance of putting the fire out quickly, but they at least contain it while it starts to burn out. Pyre listens the whole time. When I finish, she turns the page of the Death Note over in her hand.

"Is that it?" she asks, pointing at the Note at my side. She wrinkles her nose as a maggot crawls over it.

"Yeah," I say, and then do a double take. The Death Note should have been returned to me when Quinn died. That must mean that when Pyre picked up the page, it transferred to her. And that's why I'm still in my God form. So my year of penance has not restarted. In a way, I am still attached to my mistakes here. I tell her so and she frowns.

"So you have to stay here...bonded to me now...until I die or let go of this?"

"Yes."

"Hmm." She brushes grass of her knees. I blink as the ball of Death Note paper hits me in the face softly. "I relinquish the Death Note-thing. You should go back to where you were."

I am offended for a moment. "What?"

"You don't want to get stuck with me wherever I end up. If I do get in trouble because of Quinn, I don't want you hanging around while I drool in a straitjacket. I want you to go do whatever you want to do once your year is up."

A thousand possibilities flash through my mind, debating why she does not want me around. Because of what she said. Because she doesn't want me to deal with the aftermath. I disgust her.

And then I force myself to think realistically. An hour ago, this was not about my feelings. It was about the tragedy that occurred on my watch. I even felt bad for Quinn. Ryuk and all of the others must be watching the events of tonight and thinking what they may. I did not want to return to the Death God Realm after seeing this world. I could only think of my existence there. Gambling aimlessly. Getting and giving dirty looks from and to the other Death Gods. I feel like a maggot now, skittering around. Leeching off a larger part of something for no reason whatsoever. Death Gods have no purpose. Not that we can remember. Maybe it would be better for us to find something to do in the Human World. Improve upon something; improve upon ourselves.

To see and feel everything.

"Alright," I say finally. I pull down the bone mask and give her a small smile. I hope it doesn't look too much like a leer to her. "But expect me."

"Yeah, I figured you'd say that."

"I'll come back to see all of you. Aidan as well. And I'll stay close by somewhere, so that I can pay my respects to Anna."

She nodded and ducked her head. I touched the Death Note at my side and felt my God form seemingly melt away. I felt heavy in my human form - but heavy with purpose. Humans must feel this all the time. I stood up, feeling my still-brittle joints crack. She reached out and bumped my fist. I suppressed a grin.

"See you later, Rebecca."

"Bye, Anathema."

I turn away from the scene after checking that my departure will go unnoticed now that people can see me. Either way, I'm not a patient of theirs. Though after all that had happened, I could be. I started walking away - it is a long, flat stretch to the nearest town once I got up the hill. Too bad that my wings are gone, but if I am to stay as a human, I may as well be grounded like them.

I look back after I'm a long way away, far enough to see almost everything.

_(it's a bit too soon to speak of everything)_

The hospital is still burning like the little spark of a heart in the distance. But if fire looks like the spark of a heart, then everything I've learned from Rebecca and these stupid lunatics means that it can only grow.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it, and I hope it made up for the wait. Please review, I'd love to hear from some of you again. **


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